J 


! 

1.1^.    J.     , ;__„ __™_ :- 1 

1. 1  B  R  X  H  Y 

OK    'llIK 

1 
Theo 

logical 

Seminary, 

PRINCETON 

N.    J. 

i 

1  %Q(^s^; 

^S^4.ZO .. 

V  Shelf 



^.'BIa^      ' 

,■:                      tp.. 

1-8.7^ 

v/^-L    .\ 

Z  J 

I! 


THE 


LIFE    OF    CHUIST 


REV.  WILLIAM   HANNA,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


Vol.  I. 
EARLIER    YEARS, 

AND 

MINISTRY    IN    GALILEE. 


NEW     YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER    AND    BROTHERS. 

530  Broadway. 

1876. 


Cambridge : 
Press  of  Johti  Wilson  and  Son. 


I 


THE  EARLIER  YEARS 


OF 


Our  Lord's  Life  on  Earth. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOS 

The  Anotjnciation — Mabt  aitd  Etjzabeth J 

The  NATTvnr 2C 

The  Pkesentation  in  the  Temple 44 

The  Visit  of  the  Magi 65 

The  Massacre   of  the  Innocents,  and  the  Flight 

INTO  Egypt 89 

The  Thibty  Yeabs  at  Nazareth — Christ  among  the 

Doctors 110 

The  Forerunner 131 

The  Baptism 158 

The  Temptation 179 

The  First  Disciples 207 

The  First  Miracle r-.  231 

The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple 255 

The  Conversation  "wtth  Nicodemus 274 

The  Woman  of  Samaria 297 

The  Je-stesh  Noblejian  and  the  Koman  Centurion  . .  321 

The  Pool  of  Bethesda 340 

The  Synagogue  of  Nazareth 360 

First  Sabbath  in  Capernaum,  and  first  Cxrcutt  of 

Galilee 379 


GENERAL  PREFACE. 


The  Lectures  of  which  these  volumes  consist  were  all 
written  in  the  course  of  weekly  preparation  for  the  pulpit, 
and  are  given  as  they  were  delivered  Sunday  after  Sunday 
to  an  ordinary  but  well-educated  Christian  congregation. 
This  fact  will  sufficiently  explain  the  presence  in  them  of 
much  that  might  otherwise  be  regarded  as  irrelevant  or 
superfluous,  and  the  absence  of  much  that  might  otherwise 
have  been  deemed  essential. 

Using  the  best  critical  helps,  home  and  foreign,  that 
were  within  his  reach,  the  writer  was,  in  the  first  instance, 
at  pains  to  read  aright  and  harmonize  the  accounts  given 
by  the  different  Evangelists.  Out  of  the  materials  so 
supplied,  his  aim  has  been  to  construct  a  continuous  narra- 
tive of  the  leading  incidents  in  our  Saviour's  life  —  pre- 
sented in  such  a  form  as  might  bring  out  as  vividly  as 
possible,  not  only  the  sequence  and  connection  of  the 
events,  but  the  motives  and  feelings  of  the  different  actors 
and  spectators,  dwelling  especially  upon  every  thing  that 
served  to  exhibit  or  illustrate  the  great  Central  Character. 

Seven  years  ago  a  portion  of  these  Lectures  was  pub- 
lished in  a  volume  entitled  The  Last  Day  of  our  Lord^i 
Passion, 


Ti  General  Preface. 

The  favorable  reception  given  to  this  volume,  its  trans- 
lation into  the  Dutch,  French,  and  German  languages, 
and  its  adoption  for  circulation  by  two  of  the  leading  So- 
cieties for  the  diffusion  of  Christian  literature  on  the  Con- 
tinent, encouraged  the  author  to  persevere  and  to  issue 
annually,  in  succession,  the  five  additional  volumes  by 
which  the  series  is  now  completed. 

Although  ever  bearing  in  mind  the  attempts  that  in 
recent  years  have  been  made  to  impugn  the  credibility  or 
reduce  the  significance  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  the  writer 
has  abstained  from  all  historical,  critical,  and  doctrinal 
discussions,  as  alien  from  his  object.  He  trusts,  however, 
tiat  such  a  simple  recital  of  the  incidents  in  Christ's  life 
as  the  following  pages  present,  may  help  to  create  or  to 
deepen  the  conviction  that  the  natural  and  supernatural 
are  so  inseparably  interwoven  in  the  narrative  that  if  you 
take  away  the  latter  you  leave  the  former  inexplicable  — 
the  blending  of  the  two  being  essential  to  the  coherence 
and  consistency  of  the  record ;  and  that  the  human  and  the 
divine  so  meet  and  mingle  in  the  complex  character  "of  our 
Lord,  and  in  their  combination  were  so  singularly  illus- 
trated in  his  words  and  acts,  that  if  his  divinity  be  denied, 
his  humanity  becomes  mutilated,  stained,  and  degraded. 


Edinbukgh,  6  Castlk  Terracb, 
Uih  October,  1869. 


I. 

THE  ANNUNCIATION — MART  AND   ELIZABETH  * 

IN  the  sixth  month" — half  a  year  from  the 
time  when,  within  the  holy  place  at  Jerusa- 
lem, he  had  stood  on  the  right  side  of  the  altar  of 
incense,  and  announced  to  the  incredulous  Za- 
charias  the  birth  of  the  Baptist — the  angel 
Gabriel  was  sent  to  an  obscure  Galilean  village 
to  announce  a  stiU  greater  birth, — that  of  the 
Divine  Redeemer  of  mankind.  As  we  open, 
then,  the  first  page  in  the  history  of  our  Lord's 
earthly  life,  we  come  at  once  into  contact  with 
the  supernatural.  The  spirit-world  unfolds 
itself ;  some  of  its  highest  inhabitants  become 
palpable  to  sense,  and  are  seen  to  take  part  in 
human  affairs.  In  the  old  patriarchal  and  pro- 
plietic  ages  angels  frequently  appeared  convers- 
ing with  Abraham  and  Hagar,  and  Lot  and 
Jacob  ;  instructing  in  their  ignorance,  or  com- 

•  Luke  i  26-56. 


2  The  Annunciation. 

forting  in  their  distress,  or  strengthening  in 
their  weakness  Joshua  and  Gideon,  and  EUjah 
and  Daniel  and  Zechariah.  Excluding,  how- 
ever, those  instances  in  which  it  was  the  Angel 
of  the  Covenant  who  appeared,  the  cases  of  an- 
gelic manifestation  were  comparatively  rare,  and 
lie  very  thinly  scattered  over  the  four  thousand 
years  which  preceded  the  birth  of  Christ 
Within  the  half  century  that  embraced  this  life 
we  have  more  instances  of  angelic  interposition 
than  in  all  the  foregoing  centuries  of  the  world's 
history.  At  its  opening  and  at  its  close  angels 
appear  as  taking  a  special  interest  in  events 
which  had  Httle  of  outward  mark  to  distinguish 
them.  Gabriel  announces  to  Zacharias  the 
birth  of  John,  to  Mary  the  birth  of  Jesus.  An 
angel  warns  Joseph  in  a  dream  to  take  the 
young  child  down  to  Egypt.  On  the  night  of 
the  great  birth,  and  for  the  first  time  on  earth, 
a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  is  seen.  In 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  an  angel  comes  to 
strengthen  our  Lord  in  his  great  agony.  On 
the  morning  of  the  Resurrection  angels  appear 
now  sitting,  now  standing,  within  and  without 
the  sepulchre,  as  if  they  thronged  around  the 
place  where  the  body  of  the  Lord  had  lain. 
When  from  the  top  of  Olivet  the  cloud  carried 


The  Annunciation.  3 

the  rising  Jesus  out  of  the  apostles'  sight,  two 
angels  stand  beside  the  apostles  as  they  gaze 
so  steadfastly  up  into  the  heavens,  and  foretell 
his  second  coming.  Nor  do  they  withdraw 
from  human  sight  when  the  ministry  of  our 
Lord  has  closed.  Minghng  with  the  other 
miraculous  agency  whereby  the  kingdom  of 
Christ  was  established  and  extended,  theirs 
appears.  An  angel  releases  Peter,  commissions 
Philip,  instructs  Cornehus,  smites  Herod,  stands 
amid  the  terrors  of  the  shipwreck  before  Paul. 
Is  there  aught  incredible  in  this  ?  If  there 
be  indeed  a  world  of  spirits,  and  in  that  world 
Christ  fills  the  place  our  faith  attributes  to  him  ; 
if  in  that  world  there  be  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels  ;  if  the  great  design  of  our 
Lord's  visit  to  this  earth  was  to  redeem  our 
sinful  race  to  God,  and  unite  us  with  the  un- 
fallen  members  of  his  great  family — then  it  was 
not  unnatural  that  those  who  had  worshipped 
around  his  throne  should  bend  in  wonder  over 
his  cradle,  stand  by  his  side  in  his  deep  agony, 
roll  away  the  stone  rejoicing  from  his  sepul- 
chre, and  attend  him  as  the  everlasting  doors 
were  hfted  up,  when,  triumphant  over  death 
and  heU,  he  resumed  his  place  on  the  eternal 
throne.     When  the   father   brought   his    first 


4  The  Annunciation. 

begotten  into  the  world,  the  edict  was,  "  Let 
all  the  angels  of  God  worship  him."  Shall  we 
wonder,  then,  that  this  worship,  in  one  or  two 
of  its  acts,  should  be  made  manifest  to  human 
vision,  as  if  to  tell  us  what  an  interest  the  In- 
carnation excited,  if  not  in  the  minds  of  men, 
in  another  and  higher  branch  of  the  great 
community  of  spirits?  From  the  beginning 
angels  were  interested  spectators  of  what  tran- 
spired on  earth.  When  under  the  moulding 
hand  of  the  Great  Creator  the  present  economy 
of  material  things  was  spread  forth — so  good, 
so  beautiful — they  sang  together,  they  shouted 
for  joy.  When  sin  and  death  made  their  dark 
entrance,  angels  stood  by,  hailing  the  first 
beams  of  light  that  fell  upon  the  darkness, 
welcoming  the  fii'st  human  spirit  that  made  its 
way  into  the  heavenly  mansions.  The  slow 
development  of  the  divine  purposes  of  mercy 
in  the  history  of  human  redemption,  they 
watched  with  eager  eye.  Still  closer  to  our 
earth  they  gathered,  still  more  earnest  was 
their  gaze  as  the  Son  of  the  Eternal  prepared 
to  leave  the  glory  he  had  with  the  Father  that 
he  might  come  down  and  tabernacle  as  a  man 
among  us.  And  when  the  great  event  of  hia 
Incarnation  at  last  took  place,  it  looked  fof 


The  Annunciation.  5 

a  short  season  as  if  they  were  to  mingle  visibly 
in  the  affairs  of  men,  and  of  that  new  kingdom 
which  the  Ancient  of  Days  set  up.  It  was  the 
Son  of  God  who  brought  these  good  angels 
down  along  with  him.  He  has  mediated  not 
only  between  us  and  the  Father,  but  be- 
tween us  and  that  elder  branch  of  the  great 
commonwealth  of  spirits,  securing  their  services 
for  us  here,  preparing  us  for  their  society  here- 
after. He  has  taught  them  to  see  in  us  that 
seed  out  of  which  the  places  left  vacant  by  the 
first  revolt  in  heaven  are  to  be  filled.  He  has 
taught  us  to  see  in  them  our  elder  brethren, 
to  a  closer  and  eternal  fellowship  with  whom 
we  are  hereafter  to  be  elevated.  Already  the 
interchange  of  kindly  offices  has  commenced. 
Though  since  he  himself  has  gone  they  have 
withdrawn  from  human  vision,  they  have  not 
withdrawn  from  earthly  service  under  the  Re- 
deemer. Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits 
sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  who  shall  be  heirs 
of  salvation  ?  Who  shall  recount  to  us  wherein 
that  gracious  ministry  of  theirs  consists  ?  who 
shall  prove  it  to  be  a  fancy,  that  as  they  waited 
to  bear  away  the  spirit  of  Lazarus  to  Abraham's 
bosom,  they  hover  round  the  death-bed  of  the 
behever   still,  the   tread  of  theu^  footstep,  the 


6  The  Anntinciation. 

stroke  of  their  wing  unheard  as  they  waft  the 
departing  spirit  to  its  eternal  home  ? 

"  The  angel  Gabriel  was  sent  from  God  unto 
a  city  of  Galilee,  named  Nazareth,  to  a  virgin 
espoused  to  a  man,  whose  name  was  Joseph, 
of  the  house  of  David ;  and  the  virgin's  name 
was  Mary."  Little  information  is  given  in  the 
Gospels  as  to  the  previous  history  either  of 
Joseph  or  Mary.  He,  we  are  told,  was  of  the 
house  of  David,  of  royal  hneage  by  direct  de- 
scent ;  but  that  line  now  fallen  so  low  that  he 
was  but  a  village  tradesman,  a  carpenter. 
Mary  too,  we  have  reason  to  beUeve,  was  also 
of  the  royal  stock  of  David  ;  yet  in  so  humble 
a  condition  of  life  as  made  it  natural  that  she 
should  be  betrothed  to  Joseph.  This  betrothal 
had  taken  place,  and  the  new  hopes  it  had  ex- 
cited agitate  the  youthful  Mary's  heart.  She 
is  alone  in  her  dwelling,  when,  hfting  up  her 
eyes,  she  sees  the  form  of  the  angel,  and  hears 
his  voice  say  unto  her  :  "Hail,  thou  that  art 
highly  favored,  the  Lord  is  with  thee  :  blessed 
art  thou  among  women."  To  Zacharias  he 
had  spoken  at  once  by  name,  and  had  pro- 
ceeded without  prelude  to  deliver  the  message 
with  which  he  had  been  charged.  He  enters 
more  reverently  this  humble  abode  at  Nazareth 


The  Annunciation.  7 

than  he  had  entered  the  holy  place  of  the  great 
Temple  at  Jerusalem.  He  stands  more  rev- 
erently before  this  youthful  maiden  than  before 
the  aged  priest.  He  cannot  open  to  her  his 
message  till  he  has  offered  her  such  homage  as 
heavenly  messenger  never  paid  to  any  member 
of  our  race.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  saluted  so 
by  one  who,  wearing,  as  in  all  hkelihood  he 
did,  our  human  form,  was  yet  like  no  man  she 
had  ever  seen,  Mary  should  have  been  "trou- 
bled at  his  saying," — troubled  as  she  felt  the 
privacy  of  her  seclusion  thus  invaded,  and 
looked  upon  that  strange,  unearthly,  yet  most 
attractive  form  which  stood  before  her  ?  She 
is  not  so  troubled  however  as  to  hinder  her 
from  casting  in  her  thoughts  "  what  manner  of 
salutation  this  should  be."  She  receives  the 
salutation  in  silence,  with  surprise,  with  awe, 
with  thoughtful  wonder.  In  sympathy  with 
feelings  depicted  in  her  alarmed  yet  inquiring 
countenance,  Gabriel  hastens  to  relieve  her 
fears,  and  satisfy  her  curiosity.  "Fear  not," 
he  says,  after  a  brief  pause.  "  Fear  not, 
Mary ;  "  the  very  familiar  mention  of  her  name 
carrying  with  it  an  antidote  against  alarm. 
"Fear  not,  Mary;  for  thou  hast  found  favor 
with  God.     And,  behold,  thou  shalt  conceive 


8  The  Annunciation. 

m  thy  womb,  and  bring  forth  a  son,  and  shalt 
call  his  name  Jesus.  He  shall  be  great,  and 
shall  be  called  the  Son  of  the  Highest ;  and  the 
Lord  God  shall  give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his 
father  David  :  and  he  shall  reign  over  the  house 
of  Jacob  for  ever  ;  and  of  his  kingdom  there 
shall  be  no  end." 

There  was  scarce  a  mother  in  Israel,  in  those 
days,  who  did  not  cherish  it  as  the  very  highest 
object  of  desire  and  ambition  to  be  the  mother 
of  the  promised  Messiah.  Mary  was  a  mother 
in  Judah,  and  the  man  to  whom  she  was  be- 
trothed belonged  also  to  that  stock  from  which 
the  Messiah  was  to  spring.  Perhaps  the  hope 
had  already  dawned  that  this  great  honor 
might  be  in  store  for  her.  Her  devout  and 
thoughtful  habits  had  made  her  familiar  with 
the  old  prophecies  that  foretold  the  Messiah's 
advent,  and  with  the  manner  in  which  his 
kingdom  was  there  spoken  of.  Obscure  and 
mysterious  as  much  of  what  Gabriel  said  may 
have  appeared  to  her,  she  seems  at  once  to 
have  apprehended  that  it  was  of  the  birth  of 
this  great  son  of  David  that  he  was  speaking. 
She  does  not  ask,  she  seems  not  to  have  needed 
any  information  on  that  point.  Nor  does  she 
hesitate  to  accept  as  true  all  that  Gabriel  had 


The  Annunciation.  9 

declared.  She  puts  indeed  a  question  which, 
if  its  meaning  had  not  been  interpreted  by  the 
manner  in  which  Gabriel  dealt  with  it,  and  by 
the  subsequent  conduct  of  Mary  herself,  we 
might  have  regarded  as  akin  to  that  of  Zacha- 
rias ;  as  indicating  that  she  too  had  given  way 
to  incredulity.  But  hers  was  a  question  of 
curiosity,  not  of  unbelief;  a  question  akin,  not 
to  the  one  which  Zacharias  put  about  the  birth 
of  John,  but  to  that  of  Abraham  about  the 
birth,  of  Isaac,  when  he  said  to  the  angel. 
Whereby  shall  I  know  this  ?  a  question  imply- 
ing no  failure  of  faith,  for  we  know  that  Abra- 
ham staggered  not  at  the  promise  through  un- 
belief, but  expressive  simply  of  a  desire  for 
further  information,  for  some  sign  in  confirma- 
tion of  his  faith.  He  got  such  a  sign  and  re- 
joiced. And  so  with  Mary :  her  question,  like 
the  patriarch's,  springing  not  from  the  spirit 
of  a  hesitating  unbelief,  but  from  natural  curi- 
osity, and  the  wish  to  have  the  faith  she  felt 
confirmed.  Iler  desire  was  granted.  She  was 
told  that  the  Holy  Ghost  should  come  upon 
her,  that  the  power  of  the  Highest  should  over- 
shadow her,  that  the  child  afterwards  to  be 
born  was  now  miraculously  to  be  conceived. 
And  as  a  sign,  this  piece  of  information,  new 


10  The  Annunciation. 

to  her  we  may  believe,  was  given,  that  her 
relative,  the  aged  Elizabeth,  was  also  to  have  a 
son.  Her  question  having  been  answered,  and 
the  manner  of  the  great  event  so  far  revealed 
as  to  throw  her  back  simply  on  the  promise 
and  power  of  God,  Mary  says :  **  Behold  the 
handmaid  of  the  Lord  ;  be  it  unto  me  accord- 
ing to  thy  word."  What  a  contrast  here  be- 
tween Zacharias  and  Mary !  The  aged  man 
had  been  taught  from  childhood  in  one  of  the 
schools  of  the  prophets,  and  must  have  -been 
familiar  with  all  those  narratives  and  prophecies 
which  might  have  prepared  him  to  believe,  and 
he  had  besides  the  experience  of  years  to  give 
power  to  his  trust  in  God.  Mary  was  of  hum- 
bler parentage  ;  her  opportunities  of  instruc- 
tion but  meagre  compared  with  his  ;  hers  too 
was  the  season  of  inexperienced  youth  ;  her 
faith  was  as  j^et  unfortified  by  trial.  What  he 
was  asked  to  believe  was  unlikely  indeed,  and 
altogether  unlooked  for,  yet  not  beyond  the 
powers  of  nature.  What  she  is  asked  to  believe 
is  a  direct  miraculous  forthputting  of  the  great 
power  of  God.  Yet  the  old  priest  staggers, 
while  the  young  maiden  instantly  confides. 

In  Mary's  immediate  and  entire  belief  of  the 
angel's  word,  a  far  greater  confidence  in  God 


The  Amtonciation.  11 

was  shown  than  could  have  been  shown  by 
Zacharias,  even  had  he  received  Gabriel's  mes- 
sage as  she  did,  without  a  suspicion  or  a  doubt. 
She  who,  being  betrothed,  proved  unfaithful, 
was,  by  the  law  of  Moses,  sentenced  to  be  stoned 
to  death,  and  though  that  law  had  now  fallen 
into  disuse,  or  was  but  seldom  literally  executed, 
yet  she  who  was  deemed  guilty  of  such  a  crime 
stood  exposed  to  the  loss  of  character,  and  be- 
came the  marked  object  of  pubhc  opprobrium. 
Mary  could  not  fail  at  once  to  perceive,  and  to 
be  sensitive  to  the  misconceptions  and  the  perils 
which  she  would  certainly  incur.  She  might, 
in  self-vindication,  relate  what  Gabriel  had  told 
her,  but  how  many  would  believe  her  word  ? 
What  voucher  could  she  give  that  it  was  actu- 
ally a  heavenly  messenger  she  had  seen,  and 
that  what  he  had  said  was  true  ?  Many  a  dis- 
tressing fear  as  to  the  future, —  as  to  the  treat- 
ment she  might  receive  from  Joseph,  the  cal- 
umnies, the  shame,  the  scorn  to  which  from 
other  quarters  she  might  be  exposed, — might 
have  arisen,  if  not  to  check  her  faith,  yet  to 
hold  her  own  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God 
in  timid  and  trembling  suspense  ;  but  strong 
in  the  simplicity  and  fulness  of  her  trust,  she 
puts  all   fears    away,    and  committing  herself 


12  The  Annunciation. 

into  the  hands  of  him  whose  Angel  she  believes 
Gabriel  to  be,  she  says,  "  Behold  the  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord  ;  be  it  unto  me  according  to 
thy  word." 

Let  us  notice  one  other  element  in  Mary's 
faith  :  its  humility,  its  complete  freedom  from 
that  undue  thought  of  self  which  so  often  tamts 
the  faith  of  the  most  believing.  Wonderful  as 
the  announcement  is,  that  a  child  born  of  her 
should,  by  such  miraculous  conception  as  Ga- 
briel had  spoken  of,  be  the  Son  of  the  Highest, 
should  be  a  King  sitting  on  the  throne  of  David 
— his  kingdom  one  tliat  should  outrival  David's, 
of  which  there  never  should  be  an  end, — Mary 
harbors  no  doubt,  raises  no  question,  thinks 
not,  speaks  not  of  her  own  unworthiness  to 
have  such  honor  conferred  on  her,  or  of  her 
unfitness  to  be  the  mother  of  such  a  child.  As 
if  one  so  unworthy  of  the  least  of  God's  mercies 
had  no  right  or  title  to  question  his  doings, 
however  great  a  gift  it  pleased  him  to  confer, 
she  sinks  all  thought  of  self  in  thought  of  him, 
and  says,  '*  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  , 
be  it  unto  me  according  to  thy  word."  A  finer 
instance  of  simple,  humble,  childlike,  unbroken 
trust,  we  shall  scarcely  find  in  any  record,  hu- 
man or  divine.     *'  Blessed,"  let  us  say  with  her 


The  Annunciation.  13 

cousin   Elizabeth,  "  is  she  that  believed  :   for 
there  shall  be  a  performance  of  those  things 
which  were  told  her  from   the   Lord.     Thou 
hast  found  favor,"  said  Gabriel  to  her,  "with 
God."     It  is  possible  to  interpret  that  saying 
without  any  reference  to  Mary's  character  ;  to 
rest  in  the  explanation,  which  is  no  doubt  so 
far  true,  that  it  was  God's  good  pleasure  to  se- 
lect out  of  all  the  maidens  of  Israel  this  Mary 
of  Nazareth,  to   be  the  most  honored  of  the 
daughters  of  Eve.     But  if  it  be  true,  as  we  are 
elsewhere  taught,  that  to  him  that  hath  it  is 
given  ;  that  it  is  done  unto  every  one  according 
to  his  faith;    that  to   him  that   beheveth,   all 
things  are  possible  ;  if  all  the  recorded  expe- 
rience of  God's  people  confirms  these  general 
sayings  of  the  Divine  word,— are  we  wrong  in 
considering  the  high  honor  conferred  by  God 
on  Mary  as  a  striking  exemplification  of  the  • 
prmciple  of  adapting  the  gift  to  the  character 
and  capacity  of  the  receiver  ? 

His  errand  accomplished,  Gabriel  withdrew  ; 
and  after  the  brief  and  exciting  interview,  Mary 
was  left  in  sohtude  to  her  own  thoughts.  The 
words  she  had  so  lately  heard  kept  ringing  in 
her  ears.  She  tried  to  enter  more  and  more 
into  their  meaning.     As  she  did  so,  into  what 


14  The  Annunciation. 

a  tumult  of  wonder,  and  awe,  and  hope,  must 
she  have  been  thrown !  She  longs  for  some 
one  with  whom  she  can  converse,  to  whom  she 
may  unburden  her  full  mind  and  heart.  There 
is  no  one  near  to  whom  she  can  or  dare  lay 
open  all  her  secret  thoughts  ;  but  she  remem- 
bers now  what  Gabriel  had  told  her  about  her 
kinswoman  Elizabeth,  who  may  well  be  intrusted 
with  the  secret,  for  she  too  has  been  placed  in 
something  like  the  same  condition.  Eager  for 
sympathy,  thirsting  for  companionship  and  full 
communion  of  the  heart,  she  arises  in  haste, 
and  departs  for  the  distant  residence  of  her 
cousin,  who  lives  amid  the  far-off  hills  of  Judah. 
It  is  a  long — for  one  so  young  and  so  unpro- 
tected, it  might  be,  a  perilous  journey  ;  nearly 
the  whole  length  of  the  land — at  least  a  hun- 
dred miles  to  traverse.  But  what  is  distance, 
what  are  dangers  to  one  so  lifted  up  with  the 
exalted  hopes  to  which  she  has  been  begotten  ! 
The  hundred  miles  are  quickly  trodden ;  joy 
and  hope  make  the  long  distance  short.  She 
reaches  at  last  the  house  in  which  Elizabeth 
resides,  and,  with  all  due  respect — such  as  is 
due  from  the  inferior  in  station,  the  junior  in 
years — she  salutes  the  wife  of  the  venerable 
priest     How  filled  with  wonder  must  she  have 


The  Annunciation.  15 

been,  when  instead  of  the  ordmary  return  to 
her  salutation,  EUzabetli  breaks  forth  at  once 
with  the  exclamation,  "  Blessed  art  thou  among 
women  ; "  the  very  words  which  the  angel  had 
so  lately  spoken  in  her  astonished  ear;  "and 
blessed  is  the  fruit  of  thy  womb."  She  need 
not  tell  her  secret ;  it  is  already  known.  What 
a  fresh  warrant  this  for  the  truth  of  all  that  Ga- 
briel had  said  !  It  comes  to  confirm  a  faith 
already  strong,  but  which  might,  perhaps,  other- 
wise have  begun  to  falter.  It  did  not  waver 
in  the  angel's  presence  ;  but  had  month  after 
month  gone  by,  with  no  one  near  to  share  her 
thoughts,  or  build  her  up  in  her  first  trust, 
might  not  that  trust  have  yielded  to  human 
weakness,  and  shown  some  symptom  of  decay  ? 
Well-timed,  then,  the  kindly  aid  which  the 
strange  greeting  of  her  cousin  brought  with  it, 
supplymg  a  new  evidence  that  there  should 
indeed  be  a  performance  of  all  those  things 
which  were  told  of  the  Lord. 

"  And  whence  is  this  to  me,  that  the  mother 
of  my  Lord  should  come  to  me  ?"  If  in  Mary 
we  have  one  of  the  rarest  exhibitions  of  humil- 
ity towards  God,  of  entire  acquiescence  in  his 
will ;  in  Ehzabeth  we  have  as  rare  and  beauti- 
ful an  instance  of  humihty  towards  others,  the 


16  The  Annunciation. 

entire  absence  of  all  selfish,  proud,  and  envious 
feelings.  Elizabeth  leaves  out  of  sight  all  the 
outer  distinctions  between  herself  and  her  hum- 
bler relative,  forgets  the  difference  of  age  and 
rank,  recognizes  at  once,  and  ungrudgingly, 
the  far  higher  distinction  which  had  been  con- 
ferred by  God  upon  Mary,  and  wonders  even 
at  the  fact  that  to  such  a  home  as  hers  the 
honored  mother  of  her  Lord  should  come.  But 
now  the  same  spirit  which  had  enlightened  her 
eyes,  and  filled  her  heart,  and  opened  her  lips 
to  give  such  greeting  to  her  cousin,  comes  in 
still  fuller  measure  upon  Mary,  and  to  the  won- 
derful salutation  she  gives  a  still  more  won- 
derful response  in  that  strain  of  rapt  and  rhyth- 
mical praise  which  the  Holy  Catholic  Church 
has  ever  treasured  as  the  first  and  fullest  of 
our  Christian  hymns. 

It  divides  itself  into  two  parts.  Rising  at 
once  to  God  as  the  source  of  all  her  blessings, 
her  soul  and  all  that  was  within  her  being 
stirred  up  to  bless  him,  she  celebrates,  in  lofty 
strains  of  praise,  the  Lord's  goodness  to  her- 
self individually.  "My  soul  doth  magnify  the 
Lord."  The  Lord  had  magnified  her,  by  his 
goodness  had  made  her  great,  and  she  will 
magnify  the  Lord.     The  larger  his  gift  to  her, 


The  Annunciation.  17 

the  larger  the  glory  she  will  render  to  his  great 
name.  "  My  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  Grod  my 
Saviour.  She  hails  the  coming  Saviour,  as 
one  needed  by  her  as  by  all  sinners,  and  em- 
braces him,  though  her  own  son  according  to 
the  flesh,  as  her  God  and  Saviour  ;  glorying 
more  in  the  connexion  that  she  has  with  him 
in  common  with  the  entire  multitude  of  the 
redeemed,  than  in  that  special  maternal  relation- 
ship in  which  she  has  the  privilege  to  stand  to 
him.  Royal  though  her  lineage,  hers  had  been 
a  low  estate  ;  her  family  poor  in  Judah  ;  she 
among  the  least  in  her  father's  house  ;  but  in 
his  great  grace  and  infinite  condescension  the 
Lord  had  stooped  to  raise  her  from  the  dust, 
to  set  her  upon  a  pinnacle  of  honor,  and  grate- 
fully and  gladly  will  she  acknowledge  the  hand 
that  did  it.  "For  he  hath  regarded  the  low 
estate  of  his  handmaiden."  And  how  high  had 
he  exalted  her !  The  angel  had  called  her 
blessed  at  Nazareth.  Elizabeth,  in  the  city  of 
Judah,  had  repeated  his  saying  ;  but  Mary  her- 
self rises  to  the  full  conception  and  full  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  honor  the  Lord  had  put 
upon  her:  "For  behold,"  she  says,  "from 
henceforth,  all  generations  shall  call  me 
blessed."     But   it   fills   her   with  no   pride,  it 


18  The  Annunciation. 

prompts  to  no  undue  familiarity  with  God,  or 
with  his  great  name.  She  knows  to  whom  to 
attribute  this  and  every  other  gift  and  grace, 
and  in  the  fullness  of  a  devout  and  grateful 
reverence,  she  adds  :  "  He  that  is  mighty  hath 
done  to  me  great  things  ;  and  holy  is  his  name." 

So  much  about  herself  and  all  that  the  Lord, 
had  done  for  her ;  but  now  she  widens  the  em- 
brace of  her  thanksgiving  and  praise,  and  los- 
ing all  sense  of  her  individuality,  her  virgin  lips 
are  touched  with  fire,  and  as  poetess  and 
prophetess. of  the  infant  church  she  pours  forth 
the  first  triumphal  song  which  portrays  the 
general  character  of  the  gospel  kingdom  then 
to  be  ushered  in. 

In  these  strains  there  breathed  the  spirit  at 
once  of  the  Baptist  and  of  Christ ;  of  the  two 
children  of  the  two  mothers  who  stood  now 
face  to  face  saluting  one  another.  It  is  the 
voice  of  him  who  cried  in  the  wilderness,  "  Pre- 
pare ye  the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  straight  in 
the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God  :  every  val- 
ley shall  be  exalted,  and  every  hill  shall  be 
made  low ;  and  the  crooked  shall  be  made 
straight,  and  the  rough  places  plain  ;  and  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  shall  be  revealed."  It  is  the 
voice  of  him  who  opened  his   mouth  on   the 


The  Annunciation.  19 

mountain  side  of  Gralilee,  and  said,  "  Blessed 
are  the  poor  in  spirit :  for  theirs  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Blessed  are  the  meek  :  for 
they  shall  inherit  the  earth.  Blessed  are  they 
which  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness  : 
for  they  shall  be  filled."  Do  we  not  recognize 
the  very  spirit  of  the  ministries  both  of  John 
and  of  Jesus  in  the  words  :  "He  hath  showed 
strength  with  his  arm;  he  hath  scattered  the 
proud  in  the  imagination  of  their  hearts.  He 
hath  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  seats  and 
exalted  them  of  low  degree.  He  hath  filled  the 
hungry  with  good  things  ;  and  the  rich  he  hath 
sent  empty  away.  He  hath  holpen  his  servant 
Israel,  in  remembrance  of  his  mercy ;  as  he 
spake  to  our  fathers,  to  Abraham,  and  to  his 
seed  for  ever." 


n. 


* 


THE   NATIVITY. 

IT  is  difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to  decide 
whether  it  was  before  or  after  her  visit  to 
EHzabeth,  that  Joseph  was  made  acquainted 
with  the  condition  of  his  betrothed.  It  must  have 
thrown  him  into  painful  perplexity.  He  was 
not  prepared  at  first  to  put  implicit  faith  in  her 
narrative,  but  neither  was  lie  prepared  utterly 
to  discredit  it.  To  put  her  publicly  away  by 
a  bill  of  divorce  would  have  openly  stamped 
her  character  with  shame,  and  branded  her 
child  with  infamy.  He  was  unwilling  that 
either  of  these  injuries  should  be  inflicted.  To 
put  her  away  privily  would  at  least  so  far  cover 
her  reputation  that  the  child  might  still  be  re- 
garded as  his  ;  and  this  he  had  generously  re- 
solved to  do,  when  the  angel  of  the  Lord  ap- 

*Luke   ii.  1-20. 


The  Nativitx.  21 

peared  to  him  in  &  dream,  removed  all  his 
doubts,  and  led  him  to  take  Mary  as  his  wife. 
This  difficulty  overcome,  Mary  was  quietly 
awaiting  at  Nazareth  the  expected  birth.  But 
it  was  not  at  Nazareth  that  the  Messiah  was  to 
be  born.  An  ancient  prophecy  had  already 
designated  another  village,  not  in  Galilee,  but 
in  Judea,  as  the  destined  birthplace.  "  But 
thou,  Bethlehem  Ephratah" — so  had  the  prophet 
Micah  spoken  700  years  before — "  though  thou 
be  little  among  the  thousands  of  Judah,  yet 
out  of  thee  shall  he  come  forth  unto  me  that  is 
to  be  ruler  in  Israel ;  whose  goings  forth  have 
been  from  of  old,  from  everlasting."  To  this 
village  of  Bethlehem  Mary  was  to  be  guided 
at  such  a  time  as  should  secure  the  fulfilment 
of  the  prophecy. 

A  singular  instrumentality  was  employed  to 
gain  this  end.  The  Roman  Empire  had  now 
stretched  its  dominion  to  its  widest  hmits,  its 
power  extending  from  the  Euphrates  to  the 
British  Islands — from  the  Northern  Ocean  to 
the  borders  of  Ethiopia.  Amid  the  prevalence 
of  universal  peace,  the  Emperor,  judging  it  a 
fit  opportunity  to  ascertain  by  accurate  statis- 
tics the  population  and  resources  of  the  differ- 
ent provinces  of  his  dominions,  issued  an  edict 


22  The  Nativitt. 

that  a  general  census  of  the  empire  should  be 
taken.  It  gratified  his  pride  ;  it  would  be 
useful  afterwards  for  many  purposes  of  gov- 
ernment, such  as  determining  the  taxes  that 
might  be  imposed,  or  the  levies  that  might  be 
drawn  from  the  different  provinces.  This  edict 
of  Augustus  came  to  be  executed  in  Judea. 
That  country  was  not  yet,  in  the  outward  form 
of  its  government,  reduced  to  the  condition  of 
a  Roman  province  ;  but  Herod,  while  nomi- 
nally an  independent  king,  was  virtually  a 
Roman  subject,  and  had  to  obey  this  as  well 
as  the  other  edicts  of  the  Emperor.  In  doing 
so,  however,  Herod  followed  the  Jewish  usage, 
and  issued  his  instructions  that  every  family 
should  repair  forthwith  to  the  seat  of  its  tribe, 
where  its  genealogical  records  were  kept.  The 
distinction  of  inheritance  among  the  Jews  had 
long  been  lost,  but  the  distinction  of  families 
and  tribes  was  still  preserved,  and  Herod 
grounded  upon  that  distinction  the  prescribed 
mode  of  registration  or  enrollment.  Joseph 
and  Mary,  being  both  of  the  house  and  lineage 
of  David,  were  obliged  to  repair  to  Bethlehem. 
The  manner  in  which  the  power  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire  was  thus  employed  to  determine 
the  birthplace  of  our  Lord,  naturally  invites  us 


The  Nativity.  23 

to  reflect  upon  the  singular  conjunction  of  out- 
ward circumstances,  the  strange  timing  of  events 
that  then  took  place.  Embracing  the  whole 
sphere  of  reflection  which  thus  opens  to  our 
view,  let  us,  before  fixing  our  attention  upon 
the  mcidents  of  the  particular  narrative  now 
before  us,  dwell  for  a  little  on  the  Divine  wis- 
dom that  was  displayed  in  fixing  upon  that 
particular  epoch  in  the  world's  history  as  the 
one  in  which  Jesus  was  born,  and  lived,  and 
died.  "  When,"  says  the  inspired  apostle, 
"the  fullness  of  the  time  was  come,  God  sent 
forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made  under 
the  law."  The  expression  used  here,  "  the 
fullness  of  the  time,"  evidently  imphes  not  only 
that  there  was  a  set  time  appointed  beforehand 
of  the  Father,  but  that  a  series  of  preparatory 
steps  were  pre-arranged,  the  accomplishment 
of  which  had,  as  it  were,  to  be  waited  for,  ere 
the  season  best  suited  for  the  earthly  advent 
of  our  Lord  arrived.  Some  peculiar  fitness 
must  then  have  marked  the  time  of  Christ's 
appearance  in  this  world.  We  are  inchned  to 
wonder  that  his  appearance  should  have  been 
80  long  delayed.  Looking  at  ah  the  mighty 
issues  that  hung  suspended  on  his  advent,  we 
are  apt  at  times  to  be  surprised  that  so  many 


24  The  Natiyity. 

thousand  years  should  have  been  suffered  to 
elapse  ere  the  Son  of  God  came  down  to  save 
us  ;  and  yet,  could  the  whole  plan  and  coun- 
sels of  the  Deity  be  laid  open  to  our  eye,  we 
cannot  but  beheve  that  as  there  were  the  best 
and  weightiest  reasons  why  his  coming  should 
be  deferred  so  long,  there  were  also  the  best 
and  weightiest  reasons  why  it  should  be  deferred 
no  longer.  To  attempt  on  either  side  the 
statement  of  these  reasons  would  be  to  attempt 
to  penetrate  within  the  veil  that  hides  from  us 
the  secret  things  of  God.  Taking  up,  however, 
the  history  of  the  world  as  it  is  actually  before 
us,  it  can  neither  be  unsafe  nor  presumptuous 
to  consider  the  actual  and  obvious  benefits 
which  have  attended  the  coming  of  the  Saviour 
at  that  particular  period  when  it  happened. 

In  the  first  place,  we  can  readily  enough  per- 
ceive that  it  has  served  greatly  to  enhance  the 
number  and  the  force  of  the  evidences  in  favor 
of  the  Bivme  origin  and  authority  of  his  mission. 
Two  of  the  chief  outer  pillars  upon  which  the 
fabric  of  Christianity  as  a  revelation  from 
Heaven  rests,  are  Prophecy  and  Miracles. 
But  if  Christ  had  come  in  the  earliest  ages ; 
had  the  Incarnation  followed  quickly  upon  the 
Fall  so  far  as  that  coming  was  concerned,  there 


The  Nativity.  25 

had  been  no  room  or  scope  for  prophecy — one 
great  branch  of  the  Christian  evidences  had 
been  cut  off.  As  it  now  is,  when  we  take  up 
that  long  hne  of  predictions,  extending  over 
more  than  three  thousand  years,  from  the  first 
dim  intimation  that  the  Seed  of  the  woman 
should  bruise  the  head  of  the  serpent,  down  to 
to  th(i  last  prophecy  of  Malachi,  that  the  Lord, 
whom  the  Jews  sought,  should  come  suddenly 
to  his  temple  as  the  Messenger  of  the  Cove- 
nant, whom  they  delighted  in  ;  when  we  mark 
the  growing  brightness  and  fullness  that  char- 
acterizes each  succeeding  prediction,  as  feature 
after  feature  in  the  life  and  character  of  tho 
great  Messiah  is  added  to  the  picture  ;  when 
we  compare  actual  events  with  the  passages  in 
those  ancient  writings,  in  which  they  were  re- 
peatedly foretold,  what  a  strong  confirmation 
is  given  thereby  to  our  faith,  that  He,  of  whom 
all  those  things  had  been  spoken  so  long  be- 
forehand, was  indeed  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the 
living  God.  How  much,  then,  in  regard  to 
prophecy,  should  we  have  lost,  had  the  interval 
between  the  Fall  and  the  Incarnation  not  been 
long  enough  for  that  wonderful  series  of  pro- 
phecies to  be  interposed. 

Even  as  to  the  miracles  we  should  have  been 


26  The  Nativitt. 

put  to  great  and  serious  disadvantage.  Out 
faith  in  the  reaUty  of  these  miracles  rests  upon 
human  testimony.  That  testimony  is  em- 
bodied in  the  writings  of  the  apostles  and  their 
contemporaries.  Those  writings  were  issued 
at  an  advanced  stage  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  They  have  come  down  to  us  through 
the  same  channel — they  come  accompanied 
with  the  same  vouchers  for  their  authenti- 
city— with  a  vast  mass  of  other  ancient  writinga 
whose  genuineness  and  credibility  no  one  has 
ever  denied.  Our  belief  in  the  miracles  of 
Jesus  is  thus  bound  up  with  our  belief  in  a 
large  portion  of  ancient  history,  for  our  know- 
ledge of  which  we  are  indebted  to  writings  of 
equal  and  greater  antiquity  than  those  of  the 
New  Testament.  If  we  renounce  the  one,  we 
must,  in  all  fairness,  renounce  the  other  also. 
We  must  blot  out  all  that  is  alleged  to  have 
happened  in  the  world  from  this  date  upwards. 
It  has  been  of  the  greatest  possible  service  in 
the  defence  of  Christianity  against  the  attack 
of  scholarly  men,  that  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ, 
recorded  in  the  four  Gospels,  forms  part  and 
parcel  of  so  large  a  portion  of  the  preserved 
literature  of  antiquity — written,  as  it  were,  with 
the  same  ink,  published  at  the  same  time,  pre- 


The  Natiyitt.  27 

served  in  the  same  manner,  so  that  together 
they  must  stand  or  together  fall.  How  should 
it  have  stood,  if,  instead  of  being  as  it  is, 
those  miracles  of  Christ  had  been  wrought  far 
back  in  the  world's  history  ;  the  record  of 
them  written  at  some  period  preceding  that 
from  which  any  other  authentic  narrative  had 
come  down  to  us,  some  centuries  before  the 
date  of  the  first  acknowledged  book  of  com- 
mon history  ?  Who  does  not  perceive  to  what 
exceptions,  just  or  unjust,  they  would,  in  con- 
sequence, have  been  exposed  ?  Who  does  not 
perceive  that,  fixing  his  eye  upon  the  barbarous 
and  fabulous  age  in  which  the  record  originat- 
ed, and  upon  the  longer  and  more  perilous 
passage  that  it  had  made,  with  some  show  at 
least  of  reason,  with  some  apparent  ground  for 
the  distinction,  other  ancient  histories  might 
have  been  received,  and  yet  this  one  rejected? 
We  have  to  thank  God  then  for  the  wisdom 
of  that  order  of  things  whereby,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  particular  time  at  which  Christ 
appeared,  our  faith  in  him  as  the  heaven-sent 
Saviour  rests  upon  the  same  solid  basis  with 
our  faith  in  the  best  accredited  facts  of  com- 
mon history. 

We  can  discern  another  great  and  beneficial 


28  The  Nativii'it. 

purpose  that  was  served  by  the  appearance  of 
Christ  at  so  late  a  period.  The  world  was  left 
for  a  long  while  to  itself,  to  make  full  proof  of 
its  capabilities  and  dispositions.  Many  great 
results  it  reahzed.  There  were  countries  un- 
visited  by  any  light  from  heaven,  upon  which 
the  sun  of  civilization  rose  and  shone  with  no 
mean  lustre  ;  where  the  mtellect  of  man  acted 
as  vigorously  as  it  has  ever  done  on  earth  ; 
where  all  the  arts  and  refinem;ents  of  hfe  were 
brought  to  the  highest  state  of  culture  ;  where 
taste  and  imagination  revelled  amid  the  choicest 
objects  of  gratification  ;  where,  in  poetry  and 
in  painting,  and  in  sculpture  and  in  archi- 
tecture, specimens  of  excellence  were  furnished 
which  remain  to  this  day  the  models  that  we 
strive  to  imitate.  Was  nothing  gained  by  al- 
lowing Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome  to  run  out 
their  full  career  of  civilization,  while  the  light 
from  heaven  was  confined  meanwhile  to  the 
narrow  hmits  of  Judea  ?  Was  nothing  gained 
by  its  being  made  no  longer  a  matter  of  spec- 
ulation but  a  matter  of  fact,  that  man  may  rise 
in  other  departments,  but  in  religion  will  not, 
left  unaided,  rise  to  God ;  that  he  may  make 
great  progress  in  other  kinds  of  knowledge,  but 
make  no   progress   in   the   knowledge   of  his 


The  Nativity.  29 

Maker  ;  that  he  may  exercise  his  intellect,  re- 
gale his  fancy,  refine  his  taste,  correct  his  man- 
ners, but  will  not,  cannot  purify  his  heart? 
For  what  was  the  actual  state  of  matters  in 
those  countries  unblest  by  revelation  ?  We 
have  the  description  drawn  by  an  unerring 
hand:  "They  became  vain  in  their  imagina- 
tions, and  their  foohsh  heart  was  darkened. 
Professing  themselves  to  be  wise,  they  became 
fools,  and  changed  the  glory  of  the  uncorrupt- 
ible God  mto  an  image  made  like  to  corrupt- 
ible man,  and  to  birds,  and  four-footed  beasts, 
and  creeping  things  ;  who  changed  the  truth  ol 
Grod  into  a  lie,  and  worshipped  and  served  the 
creature  more  than  the  Creator,  who  is  blessed 
for  ever."  We  should  have  lost  that  exhibition 
of  the  greatest  refinement  coupled  with  the 
grossest  idolatry,  had  the  hght  of  Revelation 
mingled  universally  from  the  first  with  the  light 
of  ordinary  civilization. 

Let  us  look  a  little  more  closely  at  the  con- 
dition of  Judea  relatively  to  the  Roman  Empire 
at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  birth  and  death.  It 
was  owing,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  to 
Herod's  being  nominally  a  sovereign  but  vir- 
tually a  subject,  that  the  order  for  registration 
came  to  be  executed  in  Palestine  which  forced 


30  The   Nativitt. 

Mary  from  Nazareth  to  Bethlehem.  Is  there 
nothmg  mipressive  in  seemg  the  power  of  Rome 
thus  mterposed  to  determine  the  Redeemer's 
birthplace  ;  the  pride  and  policy  of  the  world's 
great  monarchy  employed  as  an  instrument  for 
doing  what  the  hand  and  counsel  of  the  Lord 
had  determined  beforehand  to  be  done  ?  But 
even  that  nominal  kingdom  which  Herod  en- 
joyed soon  passed  from  his  family.  A  few 
years  after  the  birth  of  Christ,  Archelaus,  who 
reigned  in  Judea  in  the  room  of  his  father 
Herod,  was  deposed  and  banished.  Judea  had 
then  a  Roman  governor  placed  over  it.  Still, 
however,  whether  through  respect  to  its  ban- 
ished princes,  or  some  latent  reverence  for  its 
Temple  and  ancient  laws,  the  old  national  and 
priestly  authorities  were  suffered  to  continue 
and  enjoy  some  part  of  their  old  power  and 
privileges.  It  was  an  anomalous  and  short- 
lived state  of  things  ;  a  Jewish  law  and  Jewish 
ofi&cers,  under  a  Roman  law  and  Roman  offi- 
cers :  the  two  fitted  into  each  other  by  certain 
limits  being  assigned  to  the  inferior  or  Jewish 
judicatories  which  they  were  not  permitted  to 
overpass.  To  no  Jewish  court,  not  even  to  the 
highest,  the  Sanhedrim,  was  the  power  of  in- 
flictmg   capital   punishment   intrusted ;  and  it 


The  Nativity.  31 

was  wholly  owing  to  that  peculiar  and  tem- 
porary adjustment,  that  all  the  formality  of  an 
orderly  trial,  and  all  the  publicity  of  a  legal 
execution  was  stamped  upon  the  closing  scenes 
of  the  Saviour's  hfe.  Had  Jesus  Christ  ap- 
peared one  half-century  earlier,  or  one  half- 
century  later  than  he  did  ;  had  he  appeared 
when  the  Jewish  authorities  had  unchecked 
power,  how  quickly,  how  secretly  had  their 
deadly  malice  discharged  itself  upon  his  head  ? 
No  cross  had  been  raised  on  Calvary.  Had  he 
come  a  few  years  later,  when  the  Jews  were 
stripped  even  of  that  measure  of  power  they 
for  a  short  season  enjoyed,  would  the  Roman 
authorities,  then  the  only  ones  in  the  land,  of 
their  own  motion  have  condemned  and  crucified 
him?  Even  as  it  was,  it  was  impossible  to 
persuade  Pilate  that  Jesus  was  either  a  rival 
whom  Ceesar  had  any  reason  to  fear,  or  a  rebel 
whom  it  became  him  to  punish.  Why  then 
was  the  rule  over  Judea  at  this  time  in  the 
hands  of  Rome  ?  and  why  was  that  power  in- 
duced to  treat  Judea  for  a  time  so  differently 
from  her  other  subject  provinces  ?  Why,  but 
that  she  might  be  standing  there  ready,  when 
Christ  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  exasperated 
countrymen,  to  extricate  him  from  that  grasp 


32  The  Nativity. 

under  which  m  darkness  he  might  have  per- 
ished ;  and,  though  she  too  denied  him  justice, 
yet  by  her  weak  and  vacillating  governor,  that 
hers  might  be  the  voice  proclaiming  aloud  his 
innocence  ;  hers  the  hand  to  erect  the  cross, 
and  lift  it  up  so  high  that  the  eyes  of  aU  the  na- 
tions and  all  the  ages  might  behold  it. 
I  But  let  us  now  turn  to  the  narrative  of  our 
Redeemer's  birth.  When  Mary  was  at  first  in- 
formed that  Joseph  and  she  must  go  to  Beth- 
lehem, perhaps  she  shrunk  from  so  long  a 
journey,  lingered  to  the  last  ere  she  entered  on 
it,  and  took  it  slowly.  She  was  late  at  least  in 
her  arrival  at  the  village.  The  inn,  we  may 
well  suppose  the  single  one  that  so  small  a  place 
afforded  for  the  entertainment  of  strangers,* 
was  crowded.  She  had  to  take  the  only  ac- 
commodation that  the  place  afforded.  Adopt- 
ing here  the  early  tradition  of  the  Church,  as 
reported  by  Justin  Martyr,  who  was  born 
about   a  century  afterwards,  and   within  fifty 

*  The  inn  or  khan  was  frequently  in  the  earUest  times  the  house 
of  the  sheik  or  chief  man  of  the  place.  A  very  interesting  risumS 
of  all  the  historical  notices  of  the  inn  or  khan  of  Bethlehem  is 
given  in  i\xe.Aihena;um  for  December  26,  1863,  which  makes  it  more 
than  probable  that  the  place  of  Christ's  bii'th  was  close  to,  if  not 
within,  the  very  house  to  which  Boaz  conducted  Kuth,  and  ir 
which  Samuel  anointed  David  king. 


The   Nativity.  33 

miles  from  Bethlehem,  let  us  say,  she  had  to 
go  into  one  of  the  caves  or  grottos  in  the  rock 
common  in  the  neighborhood,  connected  with 
the  inn.  There,  where  the  camels  and  the 
asses  had  their  stalls  ;  there,  far  away  from 
home  and  friends,  among  strangers  all  too  busy 
to  care  for  her  ;  amid  all  the  rude  exposures 
and  confusion  of  the  place,  Mary  brought  forth 
her  first-born  son,  and  when  her  hour  was  over, 
having  swathed  him  with  her  own  weak  hands, 
laid  him  in  a  manger. 

A  very  lowly  mode  of  entering  upon  human 
life  ;  nothing  whatever  to  dignify,  everything 
to  degrade.  Yet  the  night  of  that  wonderful 
birth  was  not  to  pass  by  without  bearing  upon 
its  bosom  a  bright  and  signal  witness  of  the 
greatness  of  the  event.  Sloping  down  from 
the  rocky  ridge  on  which  Bethlehem  stood, 
there  lay  some  grassy  fields,  where  all  that 
night  long  some  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  ; 
humble,  faithful,  industrious  men  ;  men,  too, 
of  whom  we  are  persuaded  that,  Simeon-hke, 
they  were  waiting  for  the  Consolation  of  Israel ; 
who  had  simpler  and  more  spiritual  notions  of 
their  Messiah  than  most  of  the  well-taught 
scribes  of  the  metropolis.  They  would  not 
have  understood  the  angel's  message  so  well ; 


34  The  Nativitt. 

they  would  not  have  beheved  it  so  readily  ; 
they  would  not  have  hastened  so  quickly  to 
Bethlehem  ;  they  would  not  have  bent  with 
such  reverence  over  so  humble  a  cradle  ;  they 
would  not  have  made  known  abroad  what  had 
been  told  them  concerning  this  child — made  it 
known  as  a  thing  in  which  they  themselves 
most  heartily  beheved — had  they  not  been 
devout,  believing  men.  Under  the  starry  hea- 
vens, along  the  lonely  hillsides,  these  shepherds 
are  keeping  their  watch,  thinking  perhaps  of 
the  time  when  these  very  sheepwalks  were 
trodden  by  the  young  son  of  Jesse,  or  remem- 
bering some  ancient  prophecy  that  told  of  the 
coming  of  one  who  was  to  be  David's  son  and 
David's  Lord.  Suddenly  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
comes  upon  them,  the  glory  of  the  Lord  encom- 
passes them  with  a  girdle  of  light  brighter  than 
the  mid-day  sun  could  have  thrown  around 
them.  They  fear  as  they  see  that  form,  and  as 
they  are  encncled  by  that  glory,  but  their  alarm 
is  instantly  dispelled.  "Fear  not,"  says  the 
angel,  "for  behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings 
of  great  joy,  which  shaU  be  to  all  people. 
For  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city 
of  David,  a  Saviour  which  is  Christ  the 
Lord."     Mary  had   been  told  that  her  child 


The  Nativity.  35 

was  to  be  called  Jesus,  that  lie  was  to  be  great, 
to  be  son  of  the  Highest,  the  heu*  to  his  father 
David's  throne,  the  head  of  an  everlasting  mon- 
archy. Joseph  had  been  told  that  he  was  to 
call  the  child  born  of  Mary,  Jesus,  for  he  was 
to  save  his  people  from  their  sins — a  simpler 
and  less  Jewish  description  of  his  office.  The 
angel  speaks  of  him  to  these  shepherds  in  still 
broader  and  sublime  terms.  Unto  them  and 
unto  all  people  this  child  was  to  be  born,  and 
unto  them  and  unto  all  he  was  to  be  a  Saviour, 
Christ  the  Lord,  the  only  instance  in  which  the 
double  epithet,  Christ  the  Lord,  is  given  in  this 
form  to  him.  A  universal,  a  divine  Messiah- 
ship  was  to  be  his. 

The  shepherds  ask  no  sign  as  Zacharias  and 
Mary  had  done  ;  yet  they  got  one :  "And 
this,"  said  the  angel,  "  shah  be  a  sign  unto 
you  :  Ye  shall  find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swad- 
dling clothes,  lying  in  a  manger."  But  one 
such  child,  born  that  night,  wrapped  up  in  such 
a  way,  lying  in  such  a  place,  could  so  small  a 
village  as  Bethlehem  supply.  That  village  lay 
but  a  mile  or  so  from  the  spot  they  stood  on  ; 
the  sign  could  speedily  be  verified.  But  they 
have  something  more  to  see  and  hear  ere  their 
visit  to  the  village  is  paid.     The  voice  of  that 


36  The  Nativity. 

single  angel  has  scarce  died  away  in  the  silence 
of  the  night — ^lost  in  wonder  they  are  still  gaz- 
ing on  his  radiant  form — when  suddenly  a 
whole  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  bursts 
upon  their  astonished  vision,  hning  the  illumi- 
nated heavens.  Human  eyes  never  saw  before 
or  since  so  large  a  company  of  the  celes- 
tial mhabitants  hovering  in  our  earthly  skies  ; 
and  human  ears  never  heard  before  or  since 
such  a  glorious  burst  of  heavenly  praise  as 
those  angels  then  poured  forth — couching  it  in 
Hebrew  speech,  their  native  tongue  for  the 
time  foregone,  that  these  listening  shepherds 
may  catch  up  at  once  the  cradle-hymn  that 
heaven  now  chants  over  the  new-born  Saviour  ; 
that  these  shepherds  may  repeat  it  to  the  men 
of  their  own  generation  ;  that  from  age  to  age 
it  may  be  handed  down,  and  age  after  age  may 
take  it  up  as  supplying  the  fittest  terms  in 
which  to  celebrate  the  Redeemer's  birth — 
*'  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  on  earth  peace, 
goodwill  towards  men." 

At  the  moment  when  these  words  first  sa- 
luted human  ears,  what  a  contrast  did  they 
open  up  between  earth  and  heaven  !  As  that 
babe  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  this  world  lay 
around  him  in  silence,  in  darkness,  in  ignorant 


The  Nativity.  37 

unconcern.  But  all  heaven  was  moved  ;  for, 
large  as  that  company  of  angels  was  which  the 
shepherds  saw,  what  were  they  to  the  thousands 
that  encircle  the  throne  of  the  Eternal !  And 
tlie  song  of  praise  the  shepherds  heard,  what 
was  it  to  the  voice,  as  of  many  waters,  which 
rose  triumphant  around  that  throne !  That 
little  dropping  of  its  praise  committed  for  hu- 
man use  to  human  keeping.  Heaven  hastily 
veiled  itself  again  from  human  vision.  The 
whole  angelic  manifestation  passed  rapidly 
away.  The  shepherds  are  startled  in  their 
midnight  rounds  ;  a  flood  of  glory  pours  upon 
them  ;  their  eyes  are  dazzled  with  those  forms 
of  light  ;  their  ears  are  full  of  that  thrilling  song 
of  praise  :  suddenly  the  glory  is  gone  ;  the 
shining  forms  have  vanished ;  the  stars  look 
down  as  before  through  the  darkness  ;  they 
are  left  to  a  silent,  unspeakable  wonder  and 
awe.  They  soon,  however,  collect  their 
thoughts,  and  promptly  resolve  to  go  at  once 
into  the  village.  They  go  in  haste  ;  the  sign  is 
verified  ;  they  find  Mary  and  Joseph,  and  the 
babe  lying  in  the  manger.  They  justify  their 
intrusion  by  telling  all  that  they  had  just  seen 
and  heard ;  and  amid  the  sorrows  and  humilia- 
tions of  that  night,  how  cheering  to  Mary  the 


38  The  Nativity. 

strange  tidings  that  they  bring !  Having  told 
these,  they  bend  with  rude  yet  holy  reverence 
over  the  place  where  the  infant  Saviour  lies, 
and  go  their  way  to  finish  their  night-watch 
among  the  hills,  and  then  for  all  their  life  long 
afterwards  to  repeat  to  wondering  listeners  the 
story  of  that  birth.  With  those  shepherds  let 
us  bend  for  a  moment  or  two  over  the  place 
where  the  infant  Redeemer  lay,  to  meditate  on 
one  or  two  of  the  lessons  which  it  is  fitted  to 
suggest. 

By  the  manner  of  his  entrance  into  this 
world,  Christ  hath  dignified  the  estate  of  infancy, 
has  hallowed  the  bond  which  binds  the  mother 
to  her  new-born  child.  He,  the  great  Son  of 
God,  stooped  to  assume  our  humanity.  He 
might  have  done  so  at  once  ;  taken  it  on  him 
in  its  manhood  form.  The  second  Adam  might 
have  stood  forth  like  the  first,  no  childhood 
passed  through.  Why  did  he  become  an  infant 
before  he  was  a  man?  Was  it  not,  among 
other  reasons  which  may  suggest  themselveSj 
that  he  might  consecrate  that  first  of  human 
ties,  that  earliest  estate  of  human  life  ?  The 
grave,  we  say,  has  been  hallowed, — has  not  the 
cradle  also, — by  Christ's  having  lain  in  it  ? 

By  the  humiliation  of  his  birth,  he  stripped 


The   Nativity.  39 

the  estate  of  poverty  of  all  reproach.  Of  aU 
who  have  ever  been  born  into  this  world,  he 
was  the  only  one  with  whom  it  was  a  matter 
of  choice  in  what  condition  he  should  appear. 
The  difference,  indeed,  between  our  highest 
and  our  lowest, — between  a  chamber  in  a 
palace,  and  a  manger  in  a  stable, — could  have 
been  but  slight  to  him  ;  yet  he  chose  to  be 
born  in  the  stable,  and  to  be  laid  in  the  man- 
ger. And  that  first  stage  of  his  earthly  life 
was  in  keeping  with  all  that  followed.  For 
thirty  years  he  depended  on  his  own  or  others' 
labor  for  his  daily  bread  :  for  three  years  more, 
he  was  a  houseless,  homeless  man,  with  no  pro- 
vision but  that  which  the  generosity  of  others 
supplied:  "The  foxes  had  holes,  and  the  birds 
of  the  air  had  nests  ;  but  he  had  not  where  to 
lay  his  head."  And  has  not  that  life  of  his  re- 
deemed poverty  from  all  disgrace ;  has  it  not 
lifted  it  to  honor  ? 

As  we  bend  in  wonder  over  the  infant  Sa- 
viour, we  learn  the  difference  between  the  in- 
ferior and  higher  forms  of  an  earthly  greatness. 
On  that  night  when  Christ  was  born,  what  a 
difference  was  there  in  all  outward  marks  of 
distinction,  between  that  child  of  the  Hebrew 
mother  as  he  lay  in  his  lowly  cradle,  and  the 


40  The   Nativity. 

Augustus  Caesar  whose  edict  brought  Mary  to 
Bethlehem,  as  he  reposed  in  his  imperial 
palace !  And  throughout  the  hfetimes  of  the 
two  there  was  but  little  to  lessen  that  dis- 
tinction. The  name  of  the  one  was  known  and 
honored  over  the  whole  civilized  globe :  the 
name  of  the  other  scarce  heard  of  beyond  the 
narrow  bounds  of  Judea.  And  when  repeated 
there,  it  was  too  often  as  a  byword  and  a  re- 
proach. How  stands  it  now?  The  throne  of 
the  Caesars,  the  throne  of  mere  human  author- 
ity and  power,  has  perished.  That  name,  at 
which  nations  trembled,  carries  no  power  over 
the  spirits  of  men.  But  the  empire  of  Jesus, 
the  empire  of  pure,  undying,  self-sacrificing 
love,  will  never  perish  ;  its  sway  over  the  con- 
science and  hearts  of  men,  as  the  world  grows 
older  becomes  ever  wider  and  stronger.  His 
name  shall  be  honored  while  sun  and  moon 
endure  ; — men  shall  be  blessed  in  him  ;  all  na- 
tions shall  call  him  blessed.  This  world  owes 
an  infinite  debt  to  him,  were  it  for  nothing  else 
than  this,  that  he  has  so  exalted  the  sphitual 
above  the  material ;  the  empire  of  love  above 
the  empire  of  power. 

Again  we  bend  over  this  infant  as  he  lies  in 
that  manger  at  Bethlehem,  and  as  we  do  so, 


The  Natiyity.  41 

strange  scenes  in  his  after  life  rise  upon  our 
memory.  Those  httle,  tender  feet,  unable  to 
sustain  the  infant  frame,  are  yet  to  tread  upon 
the  roughened  waters  of  a  stormy  lake,  as  men 
tread  the  sohd  earth!  At  the  touch  of  that 
little,  feeble  hand,  the  blind  eye  is  to  open,  and 
the  tied  tongue  to  be  unloosed,  and  diseases  of 
all  kinds  are  to  take  wings  and  flee  away! 
That  soft,  weak  voice,  whose  gentle  breathings 
in  his  infant  slumbers  can  scarce  be  heard,  is 
to  speak  to  the  winds  and  the  waves,  and  they 
shall  obey  it ;  is  to  summon  the  dead  from  the 
sepulchre,  and  they  shall  come  forth!  Who 
then,  and  what  was  he,  whose  birth  the  angels 
celebrated  in  such  high  strains  ?  None  other 
than  he  of  whom  Isaiah,  anticipating  the  angels, 
had  declared:  "  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto 
us  a  son  is  given  ;  and  the  government  shall  be 
upon  his  shoulder :  and  his  name  shall  be  called 
Wonderful,  Counsellor,  The  mighty  God,  The 
everlasting  Father,  The  Prince  of  Peace."  It 
was  He,  the  Word,  who  was  from  the  beginning 
with  Grod,  and  who  was  God  ;  who  was  thus 
made  flesh,  and  came  to  dwell  among  us. 
This  is,  in  truth,  the  central  fact  or  doctrine  of 
our  religion  ;  the  mystery  of  mysteries  ;  the 
one  great  miracle  of  divine,  everlasting  love. 


42  The  Nativity. 

Admit  it,  and  all  the  other  wonders  of  the  Sa- 
viour's life  become  not  only  easy  of  belief, — • 
they  appear  but  the  natural  and  suitable  inci- 
dents of  such  a  history  as  his.  Deny  it,  and 
the  whole  gospel  narrative  becomes  an  inex- 
plicable enigma.  The  very  heart  of  its  mean- 
ing taken  out  of  it,  you  may  try  to  turn  it  into 
a  myth  or  fable  if  you  please ;  but  a  credible 
etory  it  no  longer  is.  No  ;  not  credible  even 
in  that  part  of  it  into  which  nothing  of  the  su- 
pernatural enters.  Christ  was  either  what  he 
claimed  to  be,  and  what  all  those  miraculous 
attestations  conspire  to  establish  that  he  was  ; 
he  was  either  one  with  the  Father,  knowmg  the 
Father  as  the  Father  knew  him,  doing  what- 
ever the  Father  did, — so  direct  and  full  a  rev- 
elation of  the  Father  that  it  could  be  truly  said 
that  he  who  had  seen  him  had  seen  the  Father 
likewise; — or  his  character  for  simplicity  and 
honesty  and  truthfulness  stands  impeached,  and 
the  whole  fabric  of  Christianity  is  overturned. 

Let  those  angels  teach  us  in  what  light  we 
should  regard  the  birth  of  Christ,  the  advent 
of  the  Redeemer.  They  counted  it  as  glad 
tidings  of  great  joy  that  they  gave  forth  when 
they  announced  that  birth  ;  they  broke  forth 
together  in  exulting  praises  over  it,  as  glorify- 


The  Nativity.  43 

ing  to  God  in  the  highest,  as  proclaiming  peace 
on  earth,  as  indicating  good-will  toward  men. 
In  that  good-will  of  God  to  us  in  Christ  let  us 
heartily  believe  ;  into  that  peace  with  God 
secured  to  us  in  Christ  let  us  humbly  yet  grate- 
fully enter.  Those  glad  tidings  of  great  joy 
let  us  so  receive  as  that  they  shall  make  us  joy- 
ful, that  so  Christ  may  be  glorified  m  us  on 
earth,  and  we  be  glorified  with  him  throughout 
eternity  I 


III. 

THE  PRESENTATION  IN    THE   TEMPLE.* 

ON  the  eighth  day  after  his  birth  Christ 
was  circumcised  ;  the  visible  token  of  his 
being  one  of  the  seed  of  Abraham  according 
to  the  flesh  was  thus  imposed.  In  his  case, 
indeed,  this  rite  could  not  have  that  typical  or 
spiritual  meaning  which  in  all  other  cases  it 
bore.  It  could  point  to  no  spiritual  defilement 
needing  to  be  removed.  But  though  on  that 
ground  exemption  might  have  been  claimed 
for  him,  on  other  grounds  it  became  him  in 
this  as  in  other  respects  to  fulfill  the  require- 
ments of  the  Jewish  law.  From  the  earliest 
period,  from  the  first  institution  of  the  rite,  it 
had  been  the  Jewish  custom  to  give  its  name 
to  the  child  on  the  occasion  of  its  circumcision, 
as  it  is  the  Christian  custom,  borrowed  from 
the  Jewish,  to  give  its  name  to  the  child  on 
the  occasion  of  its  baptism.     The  angel  hideed, 

*  Luke  ii.  21-28. 


The  Peesentation  m  the  Temple.         45 

who  had  appeared  to  Zacharias,  and  to  Mary, 
had  in  each  instance  'announced  beforehand 
•what  the  names  of  the  two  children  were  to 
be.  These  however  were  not  formally  im- 
posed till  the  day  of  their  circumcision.  In 
the  Baptist's  case  there  was  a  large  assemblage 
of  relations  and  friends  upon  that  day  ;  and 
springing  out  of  the  peculiar  condition  of  the 
father,  the  naming  of  John  was  attended  with 
such  striking  circumstances,  that  the  fame  of 
them  was  noised  abroad  throughout  all  the  hill 
country  of  Judea.  At  Bethlehem  Joseph  and 
Mary  were  too  far  away  from  all  their  kindred 
to  call  any  assemblage  of  them  together.  In 
their  humbler  position  they  might  not  have 
done  it,  even  had  they  been  resident  at  the 
time  in  Nazareth.  Quietly,  privately,  obscure- 
ly they  circumcised  their  child  and  gave  to  him 
the  name  of  Jesus,  that  name  so  rich  in  mean- 
ing, so  full  of  promise. 

Forty  days  after  the  birth  of  Jesus,  Joseph 
and  Mary  carried  the  infant  up  to  Jerusalem. 
There  was  a  double  object  in  this  visit.  Mary 
had  to  present  the  offering  which  the  Jewish 
law  required  at  the  hands  of  every  mother 
when  the  days  of  her  purification  were  accom- 
plished.    This  offering,  in  the  case  of  aU  whose 


46         The  Peesentation  m  the  Temple. 

circumstances  enabled  them  to  present  it,  was 
to  consist  of  a  lamb  of  the  first  year  for  a 
burnt-offering,  and  a  young  pigeon  or  a  turtle- 
dove for  a  sin  offering.  With  that  considera- 
tion for  the  poor  which  marks  so  many  of  the 
Mosaic  ordinances,  it  was  provided  that  if  the 
mother  were  not  able  to  furnish  a  lamb,  a  pair 
of  turtle-doves  or  two  young  pigeons  were  to 
be  accepted,  the  one  for  the  burnt-offering,  and 
the  other  for  the  sin-offering.  That  such  was 
the  offering  which  Joseph  and  Mary  presented 
to  the  priest,  carried  with  it  an  unmistakable 
evidence  of  the  poverty  of  their  estate.  Besides 
discharging  this  duty,  Mary  had  at  the  same 
time  to  dedicate  her  infant  son  as  being  a  first- 
born child  to  the  Lord,  and  to  pay  the  small 
sum  fixed  as  the  price  of  his  redemption. 

There  were  few  more  common,  few  less 
noticeable  sights  than  the  one  witnessed  that 
forenoon  within  the  Temple  when  Christ's 
presentation  as  a  first-born  child  took  place. 
It  happened  every  day  that  mothers  brought 
their  children  to  be  in  this  way  dedicated  and 
redeemed.  It  was  part  of  the  daily  routine 
work  of  the  priest-in- waiting  to  take  their  pay- 
ments, to  hold  up  the  children  before  the  altar 
to  enroll  their  names  in  the  register  of  the  first- 


The  Pkesentatton  m  the  Temple.         47 

born,  and  so  to  complete  the  dedication  ;  a 
work  which  from  its  commonness  he  went 
through  without  giving  much  attention  either 
to  parents  or  to  child,  unless  indeed  there  was 
something  special  in  their  rank,  or  their  ap- 
pearance or  their  offerings.  But  here  there 
was  nothing  of  this  kind.  A  poor  man  and 
woman,  in  humblest  guise,  with  humblest  offer- 
ings, present  themselves  before  him.  The 
woman  holds  out  her  first-born  babe  :  he  takes, 
presents,  enrolls,  and  hands  it  back  to  her  ;  all 
seems  over,  and  what  is  there  in  so  common, 
plain,  and  simple  an  old  Jewish  custom  worthy 
of  any  particular  notice  ?  We  shall  be  able  to 
answer  th-at  question  better,  by  considering 
for  a  moment  what  this  rite  of  the  dedication 
of  the  first-born  among  the  Israelites  really 
meant,  especially  as  applied  to  this  first-born, 
to  this  child  Jesus. 

When  Moses  first  got  his  commission  from 
the  Lord  in  Midian,  and  was  told  to  go  and 
work  out  the  great  deliverance  of  his  people 
from  their  Egyptian  bondage,  the  last  instruc- 
tion he  received  was  this:  "And  thou  shalt 
Buy  unto  Pharaoh,  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Israel 
is  my  son,  even  my  first-born.  And  I  say  un- 
to thee,  Let  my  son  go,  that  he  may  serve  me  ; 


48         The  Pkesentation  in  the  Temple. 

and  if  thou  refuse  to  let  him  go,  behold,  I  will 
slay  thy  son,  even  thy  first-born"  (Exodus  iv. 
22,  23).  As  a  mother  reclaims  her  infant  from 
the  hands  of  a  cruel  nurse,  as  a  father  reclaims 
his  son  from  the  hands  of  a  severe  and  capri- 
cious schoolmaster,  so  the  Lord  reclaimed  his 
son,  his  first-born  Israel,  from  the  hands  of 
Pharaoh.  But  the  king's  haughty  answer  to 
the  demand  was  :  "  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I 
should  obey  his  voice  to  let  Israel  go  ?"  Sign 
after  sign  was  shown,  wonder  after  wonder 
wrought,  woe  after  woe  inflicted,  but  the  spirit 
of  the  proud  king  remained  unbroken.  At 
last,  all  lesser  instruments  having  failed,  the 
sword  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the  destroying 
angel,  and  he  was  sent  forth  to  execute  that 
foretold  doom,  which — meant  to  strike  at  the 
very  heart  of  the  entire  community  of  Egypt — • 
fell  actually  only  upon  the  first-born  in  every 
family.  The  nation  was  taken  as  represented 
by  these  its  first  and  best.  In  their  simultane- 
ous death  on  that  terrible  night,  Egypt  through- 
out all  its  borders  was  smitten.  But  the  first- 
born of  Israel  was  saved,  and  through  them, 
as  representatives  of  the  whole  body  of  the 
people,  all  Israel  was  saved  ;  saved,  yet  not 
without  blood,  not  without  the  sacrifice  of  the 


The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple.         49 

lamb,  for  every  household  had  the  sprinklmg 
of  its  shed  blood  upon  the  lintel  and  door-post. 
It  was  to  preserve  and  perpetuate  the  memory 
of  this  judgment  and  this  mercy,  this  smiting 
and  this  shielding,  this  doom  and  this  deliver- 
ance, that  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses  saying, 
"Sanctify  unto  me  all -the  first-born,  both  of 
man  and  beast ;  it  is  mine :  for  on  the  day  that 
I  smote  all  the  first-born  in  the  land  of  Egypt, 
I  haUowed  unto  me  all  the  first-born  in  Israel ; 
mine  they  shall  be  ;  I  am  the  Lord.  And  it 
shaU  be,  when  thy  son  asketh  thee  in  time  to 
come,  saying,  What  is  this  ?  that  thou  shalt  say 
unto  him,  By  strength  of  hand  the  Lord 
brought  us  out  from  Egypt,  from  the  house  of 
bondage  :  and  it  came  to  pass  when  Pharaoh 
would  hardly  let  us  go,  that  the  Lord  slew  all 
the  first-born  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  both  the 
first-born  of  man  and  the  first-born  of  beast , 
therefore  I  sacrifice  to  the  Lord  all  that  open- 
eth  the  matrix,  being  males  ;  but  all  the  first- 
born of  my  children  I  redeem."*  Daring  the 
earlier  and  simpler  patriarchal  economy,  the 
first-born  in  every  family  was  also  its  priest. 
Had  that  rule  been  followed  when  the  twelve 
tribes  were  organized  into  the  Theocracy,  the 

*  Exod.  siii.  1  ;  Numb.  iii.  13  ;  Exod.  xiii.  11,  15. 


50         The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple. 

first-born  invested  with  a  double  sacredness  as 
peculiarly  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  would 
have  been  consecrated  to  the  office  of  the 
priesthood.  Instead  of  this,  the  tribe  of  Levi 
was  set  apart,  that  it  might  supply  all  the 
priests  requhed  for  the  services  of  the  sanctua- 
'ry  ;  and  the  first-born  for  whom  they  were 
thus  substituted  were  redeemed  or  released 
from  that  service  by  the  payment,  each,  on  the 
day  of  their  presentation  in  the  Temple,  of  a 
merely  nominal  gratuity  ;  by  that  payment, 
the  original  right  and  title,  as  it  were,  of  the 
first-born  to  the  office  of  the  priesthood  being 
still  preserved. 

This  rite,  then,  of  the  presentation  of  the 
first-born  in  the  Temple,  had  a  double  char- 
acter and  office.  It  was  a  standing  memorial 
or  remembrancer  of  a  past  fact  in  the  history 
of  the  Jewish  people, — the  deliverance  of  their 
forefathers  from  the  bondage  of  Egypt,  ana 
especially  of  the  shielding  of  their  first-born 
from  the  stroke  which  feU  on  all  the  first-born 
of  the  Egyptians  :  but  the  deliverance  from 
Egyptian  bondage  was  itself  a  type  and  proph- 
ecy of  another  higher  and  wider  deliverance, 
and  especially  of  the  manner  in  which  that  de- 
liverance was  to  be  wrought  out. 


The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple.         51 

In  the  light  of  this  explanation,  let  us  look 
yet  once  again  at  our  Lord's  presentation  in 
the  Temple  as  a  first-born  child,  and  see 
whether — as  the  eye  of  faith  looks  through  the 
oatward  actions  to  that  which  the  actions  sym- 
bohze,  looks  through  the  outward  form  and 
discerns  the  spiritual  significance — the  whole 
scene  does  not  become,  as  it  were,  transfigured 
before  us.  You  mount  the  steps,  and  come 
up  into  this  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  It  is  neither 
a  feast-day  nor  a  Sabbath-day,  nor  is  it  the 
fixed  hour  for  prayer.  A  few  priests,  or  Le- 
vites,  or  other  hangers-on  of  the  Holy  Place, 
are  loitering  m  the  outer  courts.  A  man  and 
woman  in  Galilean  dress,  the  woman  bearing 
an  infant  in  her  arms,  cross  the  court  and  go 
forward  to  where  the  priest  is  standing,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  present  whatever  individual  sacri- 
fices or  oblations  may  that  day  be  ofiered. 
They  tell  the  priest  their  errand,  hand  to  him 
or  to  one  of  his  attendants,  the  two  young 
turtle-doves,  and  the  five  shekels  of  the  Sanc- 
tuary. He,  in  his  turn,  goes  through  with  his 
part  of  the  prescribed  ceremonial,  and  gives  the 
child  back  again  to  his  parents  as  a  first-born 
child  that  had  been  duly  devoted  to  the  Lord, 
The  father,  the  mother,  the   priest,  whatever 


^         The  Pbesentation  in  the  Temple. 

onlookers  there  are,  all  imagine,  that  nothing 
more  has  been  done  in  all  this  than  is  so  often 
done  when  first-born  children  are  consecrated. 
But  was  it  so  ?  Who  is  this  child  that  lies  so 
passive  on  its  mother's  breast,  and,  all  uncon- 
scious of  what  is  being  done  with  him,  is  han- 
dled by  the  officiating  priest  ?  He  is,  as  his 
birth  had  proclaimed  him  to  be,  one  of  the  seed 
of  Abraham,  and  yet  he  afterwards  said  of 
himself,  "  Before  Abraham  was,  I  am."  He  is, 
as  the  angel  had  proclaimed  him  to  be,  David's 
son  and  David's  heir  ;  but  as  he  said  afterwards 
of  himself,  the  root  as  well  as  the  branch  of 
David  :  David's  Lord  as  well  as  David's  son. 
He  is  the  first-born  of  Mary,  but  he  is  also  the 
first-born  of  every  creature,  the  beginning  of 
the  creation  of  God.  He  is  the  infant  of  a  few 
weeks  old,  but  also  the  Ancient  of  Days,  whose 
goings  forth  were  from  of  old,  from  everlasting. 
Here  then  at  last  is  the  Lord,  the  Jehovah, 
whom  so  many  of  the  Jews  were  seeking, 
brought  suddenly,  almost,  as  one  might  say, 
unconsciously  into  his  own  Temple.  Here  is 
the  Lamb  of  God,  of  old  provided,  now  pub- 
licly designated  and  set  apart, — of  which  the 
paschal  one,  the  sight  of  whose  blood  warded 
off  the  stroke  of  the  dcstro3dng  angel,  was  but 


The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple.         53 

the  imperfect  type.  Here  is  the  one  and  only 
true  High  Priest  over  the  house  of  God,  con- 
secrated to  his  office,  of  whose  all-prevaihng, 
everlasting,  and  unchangeable  priesthood,  the 
Aaronic  priesthood,  the  priesthood  of  the  first- 
born, was  but  the  dim  shadow.  Here  is  the 
Son  presented  to  the  Father,  within  the  Holy 
Place  on  earth,  as  he  enters  upon  that  life  of 
service,  suffering,  sacrifice,  the  glorious  issue  of 
which  was  to  be  his  entering  not  by  the  blood 
of  bulls  and  goats,  but  by  his  own  blood,  into 
that  Holy  Place  not  made  with  hands,  having 
obtained  eternal  redemption  for  us,  there  for 
ever  to  present  himself  before  the  Father,  as 
the  living  head  of  the  great  community  of  the 
redeemed,  the  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  first-born  which  are  written  in  heaven. 

How  httle  did  that  Jewish  priest,  who  took 
the  infant  Saviour  and  held  him  up  before  the 
altar,  imagine  that  a  greater  than  Moses,  one 
greater  than  the  Temple,  was  in  his  arms ! 
How  little  did  he  ima2;ine  as  he  inscribed  the 
new  name  of  Jesus  in  the  roll  of  the  first-born 
of  Israel,  that  he  was  signing  the  death-warrant 
of  the  Mosaic  economy  now  waxing  old  and 
ready  to  vanish  away  ;  that  he  was  ushering 
in  that  better,  brighter  day,  when  neither  of 


54:         The  Presentation  in  the  Temple. 

the  Temple  upon  Mount  Zion,  nor  of  tliat  upon 
Gerizim,  it  should  be  said  that  there  only  was 
the  true  worship  of  Jehovah  celebrated  ;  but 
when,  taught  by  this  very  Jesus  to  know  God 
as  Our  Father  in  Heaven,  unfettered  and  re- 
deemed humanity  in  every  land  should  wor- 
ship him  who  is  a  Spirit  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 
Yet  even  so  it  was  ;  Christ's  first  entrance  into 
the  Temple,  his  dedication  there  unto  the  Lord, 
was  no  such  common  ceremonial  as  we  might 
fancy  it  to  be.  Simple  in  form,  there  lay  in  it 
a  depth  and  sublimity  of  meaning.  It  was 
nothing  else  than  the  first  formal  earthly  pre- 
sentation to  the  Father  of  the  incarnate  Son  of 
God,  his  first  formal  earthly  dedication  to  that 
great  work  given  him  to  do.  And  was  it  not 
meet  when  the  Father  and  the  Son  were 
brought  visibly  together  in  this  relationship, 
that  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  should  be 
manifested  ;  that  by  that  Spirit  Simeon  and 
Anna  should  be  called  in,  and  by  that  Spirit 
their  lips  should  be  made  to  speak  the  infant 
Saviour's  praise  ;  that  so  within  the  Temple, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit  might  all  appear, 
dignifying  with  their  presence  our  Lord's  first 
entrance  into  the  Holy  Place  ;  his  consecration 
to  his  earthly  mediatorial  work  ? 


The  Presentation  in  the  Tempi^e.         55 

Two  fitter  channels  through  which  the  Spir- 
it's testimony  might  thus  be  given  could 
scarcely  have  been  chosen.  Simeon  and  Anna 
both  belonged  to  that  limited  number,  who  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  crude  and  carnal  concep- 
tions of  the  Messiah  prevalent  among  their 
countrymen,  were  waiting  for  Christ  and  long- 
ing for  his  coming,  not  so  much  for  the  tempo- 
ral as  for  the  spiritual  benefits  which  his  coming 
and  kingdom  were  to  convey.  Both  were  well 
stricken  in  years,  fit  representatives  of  the  clos- 
ing age  of  Judaism  ;  both  were  full  of  faith 
and  hope,  fit  representatives  of  that  new  age 
whose  earliest  dawn  they  were  among  the  first 
to  notice  and  to  welcome. 

So  ardent  as  his  years  ran  on  had  Simeon's 
faith  and  hope  become,  that  this  one  thing  had 
he  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  before  his  eyes 
_ closed  in  death  they  might  rest  upon  his  Sa- 
viour. And  he  was  heard  as  to  that  for  which 
he  had  so  longed.  It  was  revealed  to  him 
that  the  desire  of  his  heart  should  be  granted, 
but  how  and  when  he  knew  not.  That  fore- 
noon, however,  a  strong  desire  to  go  up  into 
the  Temple  seizes  him.  He  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  go  there  at  that  hour,  but  he  obeys 
that  inward  hnpulse,  which  perhaps  he  recog- 


56         The  Peesentation  m  the  Temple. 

nized  as  the  work  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  by 
whom  the  gracious  revelation  had  been  made 
to  him.  He  enters  the  Temple  courts  ;  he  no- 
tices a  little  family  group  approach ;  he  sees  an 
infant  dedicated  to  the  Lord.  That  infant,  an 
inward  voice  proclaims  to  him  is  the  Messiah 
he  had  been  waiting  for,  the  Consolation  of 
Israel  come  at  last  in  the  flesh.  Then  comes 
into  his  heart  a  joy  beyond  all  bounds.  It 
kindles  in  his  radiant  looks  ;  it  beats  in  his 
swelling  veins ;  the  strength  of  youth  is  back 
again  into  his  feeble  limbs.  He  hastens  up  to 
Mary,  takes  from  the  wondering  yet  consenting 
mother's  hands  the  consecrated  babe,  and 
clasping  it  to  his  beating  bosom,  with  eyes  up- 
Hfted  to  heaven,  he  says,  "  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to 
thy  word  ;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salva- 
tion, which  thou  hast  prepared  before  the  face 
of  all  people  ;  a  light  to  hghten  the  Gentiles, 
and  the  glory  of  thy  people  Israel."  Joseph 
and  Mary  stand  lost  in  wonder.  How  has  this 
stranger  come  to  see  aught  uncommon  in  this 
child  ;  how  come  to  see  in  him  the  salvation  of 
Israel?  Have  some  stray  tidings  of  his  birth 
come  into  the  holy  city  from  the  hill  country 
of  Judea,  or  has  the  wondrous  tale  the  shep- 


The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple.        57 

herds  of  Bethlehem  "made  known  abroad/ 
been  repeated  in  this  old  man's  hearing? 
What  he  says  is  in  curious  harmony  with  all 
the  angel  had  announced  to  Mary  and  to  the 
shepherds  about  the  child,  and  yet  there  is  a 
difference  ;  for  now,  for  the  first  time,  is  it  dis- 
tinctly declared  that  this  child  shall  be  a  light 
to  lighten  the  Gentiles  ;  nay,  his  being  s-uch  a 
light  is  placed  even  before  his  being  the  glory 
of  Israel.  Has  Simeon  had  a  separate  revela- 
tion made  to  him  from  heaven,  and  is  this  an 
independent  and  fuller  testimony  borne  to  the 
Messiahship  of  Jesus  ? 

Simeon  sees  the  wonder  that  shines  out  in 
their  astonished  looks  ;  and,  the  spirit  of  pro- 
phecy imparted — that  spirit  which  had  been 
mute  in  Israel  since  the  days  of  Malachi,  but 
which  now,  once  more,  Hfts  up  its  voice  within 
the  Temple — he  goes  on,  after  a  gentle  blessing 
bestowed  upon  both  parents,  to  address  him- 
self particularly  to  Mary,  furnishing  in  his 
words  to  her  fresh  material  for  wonder,  while 
opening  a  new  future  to  her  eye.  "Behold," 
he  said  to  her,  "this  child  of  thine  is  set  for 
the  fall  and  rising  again  of  many  in  Israel." 
He  may  have  meant,  in  saying  so,  that  the 
purpose  and  effect  of  the  Lord's  showing  unto 


58         The  Presentation  in  the  Temple. 

Israel  would  be  the  casting  down,  of  many  in 
order  to  the  raising  of  them  up  again  ;  the 
casting  of  them  down  from  their  earlier, 
worldlier  thoughts  and  expectations,  in  order 
to  the  lifting  them  to  higher,  worthier,  more 
spiritual  conceptions  of  his  character  and  ofi&ce. 
Or,  perhaps  it  was  to  different  and  not  to  the 
same  persons  that  he  referred,  the  truth  re- 
vealed being  this :  that  while  some  were  to 
rise,  others  were  to  fall  ;  that  the  stone  which 
to  some  was  to  be  a  foundation-stone  elect  and 
precious,  was  to  others  to  be  a  stone  of  stum- 
bling and  rock  of  offence  ;  that  Jesus  was  to 
come  for  judgment  into  the  world,  that  those 
who  saw  not  might  see,  that  those  who  saw 
midit  be  made  blind :  his  name  to  be  the  sa- 

o  7 

vour  of  life  unto  life  to  the  one,  the  savour  of 
death  unto  death  to  the  other. 

From  all  Mary  had  yet  heard  she  might  have 
imagined  that  her  child  would  be  welcomed  by 
all  Israel  (so  soon  as  the  day  for  his  revelation 
came)  as  its  long-looked  for  deliverer  ;  and  that 
a  career  of  uusuffering  triumph  would  lie  before 
him, — a  career  in  whose  honors  and  bliss  she 
could  scarcely  help  at  times  imagining  that  she 
should  have  a  share.  But  now,  for  the  first 
time,  the  indication  is  clearly  given  that  all  Is- 


The  Presentation  m  the  Temple.         59 

rael  was  not  to  hail  her  child,  and  welcome 
him  as  its  Messiah ;  that  hostility  was  to  spring 
up  even  within  the  ranks  of  the  chosen  people  ; 
that  lie  was  to  be  a  "  sign  which  should  be 
spoken  against,"  or  rather,  for  such  is  the  more 
hteral  rendering  of  the  words,  a  butt  or  mark 
at  which  many  shafts  or  javelins  should  be 
launched.  Nor  was  Mary  herself  to  escape. 
Among  the  many  swords  or  darts  levelled  at 
his  breast,  one  was  to  reach  hers :  "  Yea,  a 
sword  shall  pierce  through  thine  own  soul  also." 
Strange  that  in  the  very  centre  of  so  broad  and 
comprehensive  a  prophecy  concerning  Christ, 
such  a  minute  and  personal  allusion  to  Maiy 
should  come  in  ;  a  high  honor  put  upon  the 
mother  of  our  Lord  that  her  individual  sorrows 
should  be  foretold  in  this  way  in  connexion 
with  the  deeper  sorrows  of  her  Son ;  and  a 
singular  token  of  the  tender  sympathy  of  Him 
by  whom  it  was  prompted,  that  now  when  her 
heart  was  filling  with  strange,  bright  hopes  ; 
now,  while  her  child  was  yet  an  infant :  now, 
ere  the  evil  daj^s  drew  on,  when  she  should 
have  to  see  him  become  the  object  of  reproach 
and  persecution,  and  stand  herself  to  look  at 
him  upon  that  cross  of  shame  and  agony  on 
which  they  hung  him  up  to  die, — that  now  to 


60         The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple. 

temper  her  first-born  joy,  to  prepare  and  fortify 
her  for  the  bitter  trials  in  store  for  her,  this 
prophecy  should  have  been  thus  early  spoken. 
"  That  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  may  be 
revealed."  No  such  revealer  of  the  thoughts 
of  men's  hearts  has  the  world  ever  seen  as  Je- 
sus Christ.  His  presence,  his  character,  his 
ministry,  brought  out  to  light  the  hidden  things 
of  many  a  human  spu'it.  He  walked  abroad 
applying  upon  all  sides  the  infallible  test  which 
tried  the  temper  of  the  soul :  "If  I  had  not 
come,"  he  said,  "  they  had  not  had  sin,  but  now 
they  have  no  cloak  for  their  sin."  In  its  un- 
cloaked nakedness  he  made  the  sin  be  seen. 
*'  I  know  you,"  said  he  to  the  Jews,  "  that  ye 
have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you,"  and  the 
reason  that  he  gave  for  this  was,  that  they  had 
rejected  him.  Coming  into  contact  with  them 
all  in  turn,  he  revealed  the  hypocrisy  of  the 
Pharisees,  the  worldliness  of  the  young  ruler, 
the  faith  of  the  Syro-Phenician  woman,  the 
malice  of  the  Sanhedrim,  the  weaknesses  of  Pi- 
late, the  treachery  of  Judas,  the  rashness  of 
Peter,  the  tender  care  and  sympathy  of  Mary. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  his  earthly  life  the 
description  given  here  by  Simeon  was  contin- 
ually  being  verified.     That  description    itself 


The  i*RESENTATION  IN  THE  TeMPLE.  61 

throughout  reveals  its  divine  origin  and  char 
acter.     It  proves  itself  to  have  been  no  bold 
conjecture  of  human  wisdom,  but  a  revelation 
of  the  future  made  by  God. 

Simeon's  prophetic  portraiture  of  the  inten- 
tion and  effect  of  the  advent  of  the  Redeemer 
had  been  scarcely  completed  when  another  tes- 
timony was  added  ;  that  of  the  aged  Anna,  the 
daughter  of  Phanuel,  who  like  her  venerable 
compeer  appears  but  this  once  in  the  sacred 
page,    and  then  is  hidden   for  ever  from  our 
eyes.     It  is  not  said  that  any  special  impulse 
drew   her   to   the   temple.     It  was  her  daily 
haunt.     Instantly  serving  God  day  and  night, 
her   life   was   one   of   fastings    and    prayers. 
When  it  was  also  made  known  to  her  that  the 
infant  whom  she  met  in  the  Temple  was  no 
other  than  the  Christ  of  God,  her  song  of  praise 
was  added  to  that  of  Simeon,  but  the  words  of 
it  are  lost.     It  would,  we  may  be  assured,  be 
a  suitable  accompaniment,  a  fit  response  to  his. 
He,  as  may  be  believed,  retired  from  the  Tem- 
ple to   close  his  eyes  in  peace,   but  she  was 
moved  to  go  about  and  speak  of  the  Lord  whom 
she  had  found  to  all  that  looked  for  redemption 
in  Jerusalem, — the  first  preacher  of  the  gospel, 
the  first  female  evangehst  in  the  holy  city. 


62         The  Presentation  in  the  Temple. 

In  the  briefest  terms  let  one  or  two  practical 
reflections  be  now  suggested. 

Simeon  did  not  wish  to  die  till  he  had  seen 
the  Lord  his  Saviour  ;  as  soon  as  he  saw  him 
he  was  ready  and  willing  to  depart.  TiU.  our 
spiritual  eyes  be  opened  to  see  Him  who  is  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the'  life,  which  of  us  is 
ready  to  meet  our  Maker,  is  prepared  to  behold 
his  face  in  peace?  But  when  once  our  eyes 
have  seen  and  our  hearts  embraced  him,  which 
of  us  should  fear  to  die  ?  Simeon  desired  to 
depart.  It  was  not  that  like  Job  he  wished  to 
die  because  hfe  had  become  burdensome.  His 
wish  to  depart  was  not  the  product  of  hours  of 
bitter  sorrow,  but  of  a  moment  of  exceeding 
joy.  It  was  not  that  like  Paul  he  desired  to 
depart  in  order  to  be  with  Christ.  It  was  the 
fullness  of  that  gratitude  which  he  felt  for  the 
great  gift  of  God  in  allowing  him  to  see  Christ 
in  the  flesh  ;  it  was  the  depth  of  that  satisfac- 
tion and  dehght  which  filled  his  heart  as  his 
arms  enfolded  Jesus,  which,  leaving  nothing 
more,  nothing  higher  that  he  could  hope  for  in 
this  world,  drew  forth,  as  by  a  natural  impulse, 
the  expression,  *'  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy 
servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  thy  salvation."     Though  nothing  is  said 


The  Peesentation  m  the  Temple.         63 

about  his  age  in  the  evangehcal  narrative,  we 
may  beheve  that  the  length  of  years  which  he 
had  already  reached,  making  the  thought  of 
approaching  departure  from  this  world  famihar, 
conspired,  if  not  to  beget,  yet  to  give  emphasis 
to  this  expression  of  his  desire.  But  it  may  be 
well,  even  though  we  be  not  in  his  exact  posi- 
tion, to  put  to  ourselves  the  question  whether 
any  desire  or  any  willingness  we  have  ever  had 
to  die  was  the  fruit  of  hours  of  earthly  dis- 
appointments, or  of  moments  of  spuitual  elation 
and  joy. 

Christ  was  set  for  the  fall  and  rising  again  of 
many  in  Israel  ;  he  is  set  for  the  fall  and  rising 
again  of  many  still.  His  gospel  never  leaves 
us  as  it  finds  us.  It  softens  or  it  hardens,  it 
kiUs  or  it  makes  ahve.  That  stone  which  the 
Jewish  builders  rejected,  is  rejected  by  many 
builders  still,  and  yet  is  the  headstone  of  the 
corner.  Blessed  is  he  who  grounds  thereon 
his  humble  yet  undoubting  trust.  "  But  many 
among  them,"  saith  the  prophet,  "  shall  stum- 
ble and  fall,  and  be  broken  "  upon  this  stone. 
May  our  feet  be  shielded  from  such  a  fate  ! 

The  sufferings  of  Mary  were  hnked  with  the 
sufferings  of  her  Son.  It  was  his  being  wound- 
ed that  wounded  her.     It  was  the  stroke  which 


64         The  Peesentation  in  the  Temple. 

descended  on  him  that  sent  the  sword  into  her 
heart.  The  same  kind  of  tie  should  bind  every 
behever  to  Christ.  He  is  so  sensitive  as  to  all 
that  affects  his  people's  welfare  and  happiness, 
that  whatever  hurts  the  least  of  these  his  httle 
ones,  touches  the  apple  of  his  eye.  And  they 
in  turn  should  be  so  sensitive  as  to  all  that 
affects  his  honor,  his  cause,  his  kingdom  on  the 
earth,  that  whatever  damages  or  injures  them 
should  send  a  thrill  of  answering  sorrow  through 
their  heart. 

Finally,  Christ  is  the  great  Eevealer  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart.  Are  we 
proud,  are  we  covetous,  are  we  worldly,  are  we 
self-willed  ?  Nothing  will  more  bring  out  the 
sway  and  empire  of  these  or  any  kindred  pas- 
sions over  us,  than  the  bringing  closer  home  to 
us  the  holy  character  and  unmitigable  claims  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Keep  them  at  a  distance,  and 
the  strong  man  armed  keeps  the  palace  of  the 
soul,  and  all  comparatively  is  at  peace.  Bring 
them  near,  force  them  home  upon  the  conscience 
and  the  heart ;  then  it  is  that  the  inward  strug- 
gle begins,  and  in  that  struggle  the  spirit  un- 
consciously revealeth  its  true  condition  before 
God. 


IV. 

THE  VISIT  OF  THE  MAGI.* 

'T'EREE  striking  incidents  marked  the  birth 
•*•  and  infancy  of  our  Lord  ;  first,  the  mid- 
night appearance  of  the  angeHc  host  to  the 
shepherds  on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem,  and 
their  visit  to  the  village  in  which  the  great 
bu-th  had  that  night  occurred ;  second,  the 
presentation  of  Jesus  as  a  first-born  child  in  the 
Temple,  and  the  testimony  there  given  to  him 
in  the  prophetic  utterances  of  Simeon  and 
Anna  ;  and  third,  the  visit  of  the  wise  men  from 
the  East,  and  the  worship  and  ofFeruigs  which 
they  presented  to  the  new-born  child.  Each 
of  these  had  its  special  wonders ;  in  each  a 
supernatural  attestation  to  the  greatness  of  the 
event  was  given  ;  and  woven  together,  they 
form  the  wreath  of  heavenly  glory  hung  by  the 


*  Matthew  ii.  1-12. 


66  The  Visit  of  the  ISIagi. 

divine  hand  around  the  infancy  of  the  son  of 
Mary. 

It  is  impossible  to  determine  the  date  of  the 
visit  of  the  wise  men.  It  must  have  occurred 
not  long  after  the  birth,  while  Joseph  and  Mary 
still  Imgered  in  Bethlehem,  and  it  is  of  little 
moment  whether  we  place  it  before  or  after 
the  presentation  in  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem. 
The  epithet  by  which  Matthew  describes  to  us 
these  Eastern  strangers  is  not  so  vague  and 
indefinite  as  it  seems  in  our  translation.  He 
calls  them  Magi  from  the  East.  The  birthplace 
and  natural  home  of  the  magian  worship  was 
in  Persia.  And  there  the  Magi  had  a  place 
and  power  such  as  the  Chaldoeans  had  in 
Babylon,  the  Hierophants  in  Egypt,  the  Druids 
in  Gaul,  and  the  Brahmins  still  have  in  India. 
They  formed  a  tribe  or  caste,  priestly  in  office, 
]3rincely  in  rank.  They  were  the  depositaries 
of  nearly  all  the  knowledge  or  science  existing 
in  the  country  where  they  lived  ;  they  ^were 
the  first  professors  and  practisers  of  astrology, 
worshippers  of  the  sun  and  the  other  heavenly 
bodies,  from  whose  appearance  and  movements- 
they  drew  their  divination  as  to  earthly 
events — all  illustrious  births  below,  being  in- 
dicated, as   they  deemed,  by  certahi  pecuUar 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  67 

conjunctions  of  the  stars  above.  Both  as 
priests  and  diviners  they  had  great  power. 
They  formed  in  fact  the  most  influential  sec- 
tion of  the  community.  In  political  affairs 
their  influence  was  predominant.  The  educa- 
tion of  royalty  was  in  their  hands  ;  they  filled 
all  the  chief  offices  of  state  ;  they  constituted 
the  supreme  counsel  of  the  realm.  As  origi- 
nally applied  to  this  Median  priest-caste,  the 
term  Magi  was  one  of  dignity  and  honor.  Af- 
terwards, when  transferred  to  other  countries, 
and  employed  to  designate  not  that  peculiar 
sacerdotal  order,  but  all  persons  of  whatever 
description  who  were  professors  of  astrology 
and  practisers  of  divination,  as  these  astrologers 
and  diviners  sunk  in  character,  and  had 
recourse  to  all  kinds  of  mean  imposture,  the 
name  of  magian  or  magician  was  turned  into 
one  of  dishonor  and  reproach.  There  seems 
no  reason,  however,  to  doubt  that  it  was  in  its 
earlier  and  honorable  meaning  that  it  is  used 
in  the  Gospel  narrative. 

Remarkable  passages,  both  from  Roman  and 
Jewish  writers,*  have  been  quoted  which  in- 
form us  that  at  the  period  of  our  Saviour's  birth 

•  Suetonius,  Tacitus,  Josephus. 


68  The  Visit  of  the  Magl 

there  prevailed  generally  over  the  East,  m  re- 
gions remote  from  Palestine,  a  vague  but 
strong  belief  that  one  born  in  Judea  was  to 
arise  and  rule  the  world.  Popularly  this  ex- 
pectation was  confined  to  the  appearance  of 
some  warrior  chief  who,  by  the  might  of  his 
victorious  arms,  was  to  subdue  the  nations  un- 
der him.  But  there  were  many  then  in  every 
land,  whose  faith  in  their  old  hereditary  relig- 
ions had  been  undermined  ;  who,  from  those 
Jews  now  scattered  everywhere  abroad,  had 
learned  some  of  the  chief  elements  of  the  pure 
Israelitish  faith  ;  and  half  embracing  it,  had 
risen  to  a  desire  and  hope  which  took  a  higher 
ground,  and  who,  in  this  expected  king  that 
was  to  spring  out  of  Judah,  were  ready  to  hail 
a  spiritual  guide  and  deliverer.  Such,  we  be- 
lieve, were  the  Magi  of  Matthew's  narrative. 
Balaam,  a  man  of  their  own  or  a  kindred  tribe, 
in  theh'  own  or  in  a  neighboring  country,  had 
centuries  before  foretold  that  a  star  should 
come  out  of  Jacob,  and  a  sceptre  rise  out  of 
Israel  (Numb.  xxiv.  17.)  This  and  other  of 
those  old  Jewish  prophecies  which  pointed  to 
the  same  event  may  have  in  some  form  or 
other  reached  their  ears,  preparing  them  for 
the  birth  of  one  who  m  the  first  instance  was 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  69 

to  be  the  king  of  the  Jews,  but  whose  kmgdom 
was  to  connect  itself  with  other  than  mere 
earthly  interests,  to  have  intimate  relationships 
with  man's  highest  hopes  and  his  eternal 
destiny.  Sharing  the  general  hope,  but  with 
that  hope  purified  and  exalted,  let  us  beheve 
that  these  Magi  were  earnestly,  devoutly,  wait- 
ing the  commg  of  this  new  king  of  the  Jews 
and  of  mankind.  Their  office  and  occupation 
led  them  to  the  nightly  study  of  the  starry  hea- 
vens ;  but  still  as  they  gazed  and  speculated 
and  divined,  they  felt  that  it  was  not  from  that 
glittering  broad-spread  page  of  wonders  hung 
above  their  heads  that  any  clear  or  satisfying 
information  as  to  the  divine  character  and  pur- 
poses was  to  be  derived.  Much  as  they  fan- 
cied they  could  glean  from  them  as  to  man's 
earthly  fortunes,  what  could  the  bright  mute 
stars  tell  them  of  the  eternal  destinies  of  those 
unnumbered  human  sphits  which  beneath  their 
light  were,  generation  after  generation,  passing 
away  into  the  world  beyond  the  grave  ?  How 
often  may  the  deep  sigh  of  disappointment 
have  risen  from  the  depths  of  these  men's 
hearts,  as  to  all  tbeh  earnest  interrogatories 
not  a  word  of  distinct  response  was  given,  and 
the   heavens   they   gazed  on  kept  the  untold 


70  The  Visit  of  the  Magl 

secret  locked  in  their  capacious  bosom.  But 
the  sigh  of  the  earnest  seeker  after  truth,  hke 
the  sigh  of  the  lowly,  penitent,  and  contrite 
heart,  never  rises  to  the  throne  of  heaven  in 
vain.  Many  errors  may  have  mingled  with 
those  men's  religious  opinions,  much  supersti- 
tion have  been  in  their  rehgious  worship,  but 
God  met  in  mercy  the  truth-seeking  spirit  in 
the  midst  of  its  errors,  and  made  its  very  su- 
perstition pave  the  way  to  faith. 

One  night,  as  those  Magi  stood  watching 
their  cloudless  skies,  their  practised  eye  detected 
a  new-come  stranger  among  the  stars.  The 
appearance  of  new  stars  is  no  novelty  to  the 
astronomer.  We  have  authentic  records  of 
stars  of  first  magnitude,  rivalling  in  their  bril- 
liance the  'brightest  of  our  old  familiar  planets, 
shining  out  suddenly  in  places  where  no  star 
had  been  seen  before,  and  after  a  season  van- 
ishing away.  Singular  conjunctions  of  the 
planets  have  also  been  occasionally  observed, 
some  of  which  are  known  to  have  occurred 
about  the  time  of  the  Redeemer's  birth.  It 
may  possibly  have  been  some  such  strange  ap- 
pearance in  the  heavens  that  attracted  the  eyes 
of  the  wise  men.  It  is  said,  however,  in  the 
narrative,  that  the  star  went  before  them  tiU 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  71 

it  came  and  stood  over  where  the  young  child 
was.  Understanding  this  as  implying  an  actual 
and  visible  movement  of  the  star — that  it  went, 
lantern-like,  before  them  on  their  way,  and 
indicated  in  some  way,  as  by  a  finger  of  point- 
ing hght,  the  very  spot  where  they  were  to 
find  the  child — as  no  such  function  could  be 
discharged  by  any  of  the  ordinary  iohabitants 
of  the  heavens,  all  about  its  appearance  must 
be  taken  as  supernatural,  and  we  must  regard 
it  as  some  star-like  meteor  shining  in  our  lower 
atmosphere.  But  be  it  what  it  might,  however 
kindled,  whatever  curiosity  its  strange  appear- 
ance might  excite, — though  the  Magi,  pene- 
trated by  the  popular  belief,  might  naturally 
enough  have  regarded  it  as  an  omen  of  the 
great  expected  birth, — the  star  could  of  itself 
tell  nothing.  However  miraculous  its  appear- 
ance, if  left  without  an  interpreter,  it  was  but 
a  dumb  witness  after  all.  The  conviction  is 
almost  forced  upon  us  that,  in  addition  to  the 
external  sign,  there  was  some  divine  commu- 
nication made  to  these  Magi,  informing  them 
of  the  errand  which  the  star  was  commissioned 
to  discharge.  But  why  the  double  indication 
of  the  birth, — the  star  without,  the  revelation 
made  within  ?     Why,  but  as  an  evidence  and 


72  The  Visit  of  the  Magl 

illustration  of  the  care  and  gracious  condescen- 
sion of  Him  who  not  only  to  the  spiritual  com- 
munication added  the  external  sign,  to  be  a 
help  to  the  weak,  infant,  staggering  faith,  but 
who,  in  the  very  shaping  of  that  outward  sign, 
was  pleased  to  accommodate  himself  to  these 
men's  earthly  calling  ;  and  while  to  Mary  and 
to  the  shepherds — Jews  living  in  a  land  where 
stories  of  angelic  manifestations  were  current — 
angels  were  sent  to  make  announcement  of  the 
Redeemer's  birth,  to  those  astrologers  of  the 
East  he  sends  a  star,  meeting  them  in  their  own 
familiar  walks,  showing  itself  among  the  divin- 
ities of  their  erring  worship,  gently  to  lead 
them  into  His  presence  to  whom  the  world's 
true  worship  was  to  be  given. 

But  when  this  star  appeared,  and  after  they 
understood  what  its  presence  betokened,  was  it 
a  spontaneous  impulse  on  their  part  to  go  and 
do  homage  to  the  new-born  Eling,  or  did  He 
who  revealed  the  birth  enjoin  the  journey? 
Whatever  the  prompting — human  or  divine — 
on  which  they  acted,  it  does  not  appear  that 
in  the  first  instance  anything  beyond  the  gen- 
eral information  was  communicated,  that  some- 
where in  Judea  the  birth  had  taken  place.  The 
star,  it  would  appear,  did  not  go  before  tliem 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  73 

all  the  way,  for  in  that  case  they  would  not 
have  needed  to  institute  any  further  inquiry. 
Its  first  office  discharged,  the  star  disappeared, 
leaving  them  to  have  recourse  to  such  common 
sources  of  information  as  lay  open  to  them. 
It  was  at  Jerusalem,  in  the  capital  of  the  coun- 
try over  which  this ,  new-born  King  was  to 
reign  ;  it  was  there,  if  anywhere,  the  needed 
intelligence  was  to  be  obtained.  To  Jerusalem, 
therefore,  they  repair.  Entering  the  holy  city, 
they  put  eagerly  and  expectantly  the  question, 
"  Where  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ? 
for  we  have  seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are 
come  to  worship  him," 

The  question  takes  the  startled  city  by  sur- 
prise. No  one  here  has  seen  the  star,  no  one 
here  has  heard  about  this  king.  The  tidings  of 
the  arrival  of  those  distmguished  strangers,  and 
of  the  question  which  they  asked,  are  carried 
quickly  to  the  palace,  and  circulate  rapidly 
through  the  city.  Herod  is  troubled.  The 
usurper  trembles  on  his  throne.  Has  a  new 
claimant,  with  better  title  to  that  throne,  indeed 
been  born  ?  How  comes  it,  if  it  be  so,  that  he 
has  never  heard  of  such  a  birth  ?  Has  treach- 
ery been  already  busy  at  its  work  ;  have  thoy 
been  concealing  from  him  this  event?     Have 


74  The  Visit  of  the  Magi. 

the  enemies  of  himself  and  of  his  family  been 
cloaking  thus  their  projects,  waiting  only  for 
the  fit  time  to  strike  the  blow,  and  hurl  him 
from  his  seat  ?  The  blood  he  had  already  shed 
to  reach  that  height  begins  to  cry  for  vengeance, 
and  spectres  of  the  slaughtered  dead  shake 
their  terrors  in  his  face.  Herod's  trouble  at 
the  tidings  we  well  can  understand,  but  why 
was  it  that  all  Jerusalem  was  troubled  along 
with  him  ?  Was  it  the  simple  fear  of  change, 
the  terror  of  another  revolution  ;  the  knowl- 
edge of  Herod's  jealous  temper  and  blood- 
thirsty disposition  ;  the  alarm  lest  his  vindictive 
spirit  might  prompt  to  some  new  deed  of  cru- 
elty, in  order  to  cut  off  this  rival  ?  If  so,  how 
low  beneath  the  yoke  of  tyranny  must  the 
spirit  of  those  citizens  of  Jerusalem  have  sunk  ; 
how  completely,  for  the  time,  must  the  selfish 
have  absorbed  the  patriotic  sentiment  in  their 
breasts ! 

But  whatever  alarm  he  felt,  whatever  dark 
purposes  were  brooding  in  his  heart,  Herod  at 
first  concealed  them.  He  must  know  more 
about  this  affair,  get  some  information  before 
he  acts.  He  calls  together  the  chief  priests 
and  the  scribes,  and  at  no  loss,  apparently,  to 
identify  the  King  of  the  Jews  that  the  Magi 


The  Yisit  of  the  Magi.  75 

asked  about,  with  the  Christ  the  Messiah  of 
ancient  prophecy,  he  demands  of  them  where 
Christ  should  be  born.  As  httle  at  a  loss,  they 
lay  their  hand  at  once  upon  the  prophecy  of 
Micah,  which  pointed  to  Bethlehem  as  the 
birthplace.  Furnished  with  this  information, 
the  king  invites  the  Magi  to  a  private  inter- 
view, conveys  to  them  the  information  he  had 
himself  received,  and  concealing  his  sinister 
designs,  sends  them  off  to  Bethlehem  to  search 
diligently  for  the  child,  and  when  they  had 
found  him,  to  bring  him  word  again,  that  he 
too,  as  he  falsely  said,  might  go  and  worship 
him. 

Let  us  pause  a  moment  here  to  reflect  upon 
the  impression  which  this  visit  to  Jerusalem, 
and  the  state  of  things  discovered  there,  was 
fitted  to  make  upon  these  eastern  visitors.  It 
must  surely  have  surprised  them  to  come  among 
the  very  people  over  whom  this  new-born  King 
was  to  rule,  to  enter  the  capital  of  their  country, 
the  city  of  the  chief  priests  and  scribes  by 
whom,  if  by  any,  an  event  so  signal  should 
have  been  known,  and  to  find  there  no  notice, 
no  knowledge  of  the  birth  ;  to  find  instead, 
that  they,  coming  from  a  strange  land,  profes- 
sors of  another  faith,  are  the  first  to  tell  these 


76  The  Visit  of  the  Magi. 

Jews  of  the  advent  of  their  own  king.  It  must 
have  done  more  than  surprise  them  ;  they  too, 
in  their  turn,  must  have  been  troubled  and 
perplexed,  to  see  how  the  announcement,  when 
it  was  made,  was  received ;  to  see  such  jeal- 
ousy, such  alarm  ;  and,  at  the  last,  so  great 
incredulity  or  indifference,  that  near  as  Beth- 
lehem was,  and  interesting  as  was  the  object 
of  their  visit  to  it,  there  were  none  among 
those  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  who  cared  to 
accompany  them.  "Was  there  nothing  here  to 
awaken  doubt,  for  such  faith  as  theirs  to  stag- 
ger at?  Might  they  not  have  been  deceived? 
Perhaps  it  was  a  delusion  they  had  listened  to  ; 
a  deceitful  appearance  they  had  seen  in  their 
own  land.  Had  these  Magi  been  men  of  a 
weak  faith  or  an  infirm  purpose,  they  might, 
instead  of  going  on  to  Bethlehem,  have  gone 
forth  despondingiy  and  distrustfully  from  Je- 
rusalem, and  taken  their  way  back  to  theu*  own 
homes. 

But  strange  and  perplexing  as  all  this  is, 
it  neither  shakes  their  faith  nor  affects  their 
conduct.  They  had  good  reason  to  believe 
that  the  communication  at  first  made  to  them 
came  to  them  from  God,  and  once  satisfied  of 
this,  no  conduct  on  the  part  of  others,  however 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  77 

unaccountable  or  inconsistent,  moves  them 
away  from  the  beginning  of  their  confidence. 
Though  all  the  dwellers  in  Jerusalem  be 
troubled  at  tidings  which  should  have  been  to 
them  tidings  of  great  joy  ;  though  not  a  Jew 
be  ready  to  join  them,  or  to  bid  them  God- 
speed ere  they  leave  the  city's  gate,  to  Beth- 
lehem they  go. 

But  a  new  perplexity  arises.  Somewhere 
in  that  village  the  birth  has  taken  place,  but 
who  shall  tell  them  where  ?  If  the  inhabitants 
of  the  capital  knew  and  cared  so  little  about 
the  matter,  what  help  will  they  get  from  the 
villagers  at  Bethlehem  ?  They  may  require  to 
search  diligently,  as  Herod  bade  them,  and  yet, 
after  all,  the  search  may  be  vain.  Just  then, 
in  the  midst  of  their  perplexity,  the  star  which 
they  had  seen  in  the  east  once  more  shone 
out  above  their  heads  to  go  before  them  till  it 
stood  over  where  the  young  child  lay.  No 
wonder  that  when  they  saw  that  star,  they 
rejoiced  with  an  exceeding  great  joy.  It  dis- 
pelled all  doubt,  it  relieved  from  aU  perplexity. 
When  first  they  saw  it  in  the  east,  it  wore  the 
face  of  a  stranger  among  old  friends  ;  now  it 
wears  the  face  of  an  old  friend  among  stran- 
gers, and  they  hail  it  as  we  hail  a  friend  we 


78  The  Yisit  of  the  Magi. 

thought  was  lost,  but  who  comes  to  us  at  the 
very  time  we  need  Mm  most. 

Let  us  note  the  contrast,  as  to  the  mode  and 
measure  of  divine  guidance  given,  between  the 
Magi  from  the  East,  and  the  shepherds  of  Beth- 
lehem and  the  Chief  Priests  and  Scribes  of 
Jerusalem.  The  shepherds  were  as  sincere, 
perhaps  more  devout  than  the  wise  men  ;  un- 
derstanding better  who  and  what  the  Messiah 
was  to  be,  and  longing  more  ardently  for  his 
coming  ;  but  they  were  uneducated  men,  men 
at  least  whose  position  and  occupation  prevent- 
ed them  from  instituting  independent  inquiries 
of  their  own.  They  were  left  to  find  out  noth- 
ing :  to  them  a  full  revelation  was  at  once 
given.  Such  minute  information  was  furnished 
as  to  the  time  and  place  and  circumstances  of 
the  birth,  that  they  were  enabled,  with  httle  or 
no  inquiry,  to  proceed  directly  to  the  place 
where  the  young  child  lay.  The  Magi,  on  the 
other  hand,  were  men  of  intelligence,  educa- 
tion, wealth.  They  had  the  leisure,  and  they 
possessed  all  the  means  for  prosecuting  an  in- 
dependent research.  To  them  no  such  full  and 
minute  directory  of  conduct  was  supplied. 
What  they  could  not  learn  otherwise  than  by 
a  divine  revelation,  was  in  that  way  commu- 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  79 

nicated,  but  what  they  could  learri  by  the  use 
of  ordinary  means,  they  were  left  in  that  way 
to  find  out.  They  repair  to,  and  they  exhaust 
all  the  common  sources  of  knowledge  which 
lie  open  to  them.  They  go  to  Jerusalem  as  to 
the  Ukehest  place  ;  they  get  there  the  informa- 
tion as  to  the  place  of  the  Lord's  birth ;  they 
act  upon  the  information  thus  obtained  up  to 
the  furthest  limit  to  which  it  can  carry  them. 
They  tarry  not  in  the  unbelieving  city,  as  many 
might  have  done,  till  further  light  was  given 
them.  They  turn  not  the  incredulity  of  others 
into  a  ground  of  doubt,  nor  the  incompleteness 
of  the  intelligence  afforded  into  a  ground  of 
discouragement  and  delay.  They  know  now 
that  somewhere  in  Bethlehem  the  object  of 
their  search  is  to  be  found,  and  if  they  fail  in 
finding  him,  it  will  be  in  Bethlehem  that  the 
failure  shall  take  place.  Nor  is  it  till  they  are 
on  their  way  to  that  village,  that  the  star  of 
heavenly  guidance  once  more  appears  ;  but 
then  it  does  appear,  and  sends  gladness  into 
their  hearts. 

And  have  we  not  all,  as  followers  of  the 
Crucified,  another  and  higher  journey  to  per- 
form ;  a  journey  not  to  the  place  of  the  Sat- 
viour's  earthly  birth,  but  that  of  his  heavenly 


80  The  Visit  of  the  Magi. 

dwelling  ?  And  if,  on  that  journey,  we  act  as 
those  men  did,  God  will  deal  with  us  as  he 
dealt  with  them.  The  path  before  us  may  be 
often  hidden  in  obscurity  ;  our  lights  may  go 
out  by  the  way  ;  we  may  know  as  little  of  what 
the  next  stage  is  to  reveal,  as  those  men  knew 
at  Jerusalem  what  awaited  them  in  their  path 
to  Bethlehem  ;  but  if,  like  them,  we  hold  on 
our  course,  unmoved  by  the  example  of  others  ; 
if  we  follow  the  light  given  us  to  the  farthest 
point  to  which  that  light  can  carry  us,  then  on 
us  too,  when  lights  all  fail,  and  we  seem  about 
to  be  left  in  utter  darkness,  some  star  of  hea- 
venly guidance  will  arise,  at  sight  of  which  we 
shall  rejoice  with  an  exceeding  joy.  Unto 
those  that  are  thus  upright,  there  shall  arise 
light  in  the  darkness  ;  and  to  him  that  order- 
eth  thus  his  conversation  aright,  God  shall 
show  his  salvation. 

But  look,  now,  at  the  Chief  Priests  and 
Scribes  of  the  holy  city,  into  whose  hands  the 
ancient  oracles  of  God  had  been  specially  com- 
mitted. They  could  teU  at  once,  from  the  pro- 
phecies of  Micah,  the  place  of  the  Messiah's 
birth  ;  and  they  conld  almost  as  readily  and  as 
accurately  from  the  prophecies  of  Daniel  have 
known  the  time  of  his  advent.     To  them,  as 


The  Visit  of  the  Magi.  81 

furnished  already  with  sufficient  means  of  infor- 
mation, no  supernatural  communication  of  any- 
kind  is  made  ;  to  them  no  angel  comes  ;  no  star 
appears,  no  sign  is  given.  Had  they  but  used 
aright  the  means  already  in  their  hands,  they 
should  have  been  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 
Lord,  with  ears  all  open  to  catch  the  fii^st  faint 
rumors,  which  must  have  reached  Jerusalem 
from  a  village  not  more  than  six  miles  ojff,  of 
what  the  shepherds  saw  and  heard ;  they 
should  have  been  out  to  Bethlehem  before  these 
Magi  came,  ready  to  welcome  those  visitors 
from  a  far  country,  and  to  conduct  them  into 
the  presence  of  their  new-born  King.  But 
they  neglected,  they  abused  the  privileges  they 
possessed  ;  and  now,  as  the  proper  fruit  of  their 
own  doings,  not  only  is  the  same  kind  of  infor- 
mation supplied  to  others  denied  to  them,  but 
the  very  way  in  which  they  are  first  informed 
works  disastrously,  and  excites  hostile  prejudi- 
ces in  their  breast.  "  Where  is  he,"  these 
strangers  say  to  them,  "who  is  born  King  of 
the  Jews  ?"  Has  an  event  like  this  occurred — 
occurred  within  a  few  miles  of  the  metropolis — 
and  they,  the  heads  and  rulers  of  the  Jewish 
people,  not  know  of  it !  For  their  first  know- 
ledge of  it  must  they  be  indebted  to  these  for- 


82  The  Yisit  of  the  Maqi. 

eigners,  men  ignorant  of  Judea,  unread  in  their 
sacred  books !  A  star,  forsooth,  these  men  said 
had  appeared  to  them  in  the  East ;  was  it  to 
be  beheved  that  for  them  in  their  land  of  hea- 
then darkness  and  superstition  such  a  fresh  hght 
should  be  kindled  in  the  heavens,  whilst  to 
God's  own  appointed  priesthood,  no  discovery 
of  any  kind  had  been  made  !  We  discern  thus 
in  its  very  earliest  stage,  that  antipathy  to  the 
son  of  Mary  which,  beginning  in  incredulity, 
and  fostered  by  pride,  grew  into  malignant  ha- 
tred, and  issued  in  the  nailing  of  Jesus  to  the 
cross.  And  even  in  the  first  stages  of  the  course 
they  followed,  they  appear  before  us,  reaping 
the  fruit  of  their  former  doings,  and  sowing  the 
seeds  of  their  after  crimes ;  for  it  is  thus  that 
the  husbandry  of  wickedness  goes  on, — the 
seed-time  and  the  harvest,  the  sowing  and  the 
reaping  going  on  together.  What  a  singular 
spectacle  does  the  proud  and  jealous  priest- 
hood of  Jiidea  thus  present,  learned  hi  the  let- 
ter of  their  own  Scriptures  but  wholly  ignorant 
of  their  spirit ;  pointing  the  way  to  others,  not 
taking  a  single  step  in  it  themselves  ;  types  of 
the  nation  they  belonged  to,  of  the  function 
which  the  Jews  have  so  largely  since  dis- 
charged— the  openers  of  the  door  to  Gentile 


The  Visit  op  the  Magi.  83 

inquirers,  the  closers  of  that  door  upon  them- 
selves. 

We  rejoin  now  the  Magi  at  Bethlehem. 
They  enter  the  indicated  house,  and  stand  be- 
fore a  mother  and  her  child :  a  mother  of  very 
humble  appearance  ;  a  child  clad  in  simplest 
attire.  Can  this,  they  think,  as  they  look 
around,  be  the  roof  beneath  which  infant  roy- 
alty hes  cradled  !  Can  that  be  the  child  they 
have  come  so  far  to  see  and  worship !  Had 
they  known  all  about  that  infant  which  we 
now  know  ;  had  they  known  that  an  angelic 
choir  had  already  sung  his  birth,  lading  the 
midnight  breezes  with  a  richer  freight  of  mel- 
ody than  they  had  ever  wafted  through  the 
skies  ;  had  they  known  that  in  that  httle  hand 
which  lay  folded  there  in  feebleness,  in  the 
gentle  breath  which  was  heaving  that  infant 
bosom,  the  power  of  omnipotence  lay  slumber- 
ing,— that  at  the  touch  of  the  one,  the  blind 
eye  was  to  open  and  the  tied  tongue  to  be  un- 
loosed,— that  at  the  bidding  of  the  other,  the 
wildest  elements  of  nature  in  their  stormiest 
march  were  to  stand  still,  devils  were  to  be 
driven  out  from  their  usurped  abodes,  and  the 
dead  to  come  forth  from  the  sepulchre  ;  had 
they  known  that  at  the  death  of  this  Son  of 


84:  The  Visit  of  the  Magi. 

Mary,  the  sun  was  to  be  darkened,  the  rocks 
were  to  be  rent,  and  the  graves  to  give  up 
their  old  inhabitants, — that  he  himself  was  to 
burst  the  barriers  of  the  tomb,  and  rise  in  tri- 
umph, attended  by  angel  escort,  to  take  his 
place  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the 
heavens, — we  should  not  have  wondered  at 
the  ready  homage  which  they  rendered  to  him. 
But  they  knew  nothing  of  all  this.  What  they 
did  know  we  cannot  tell.  We  only  know  that 
instantly,  in  absence  of  all  outward  warrant 
for  the  act,  in  spite  of  the  most  unpromising 
appearances,  they  bow  the  knee  before  that 
undistinguished  infant,  lower  than  it  bent  be- 
fore the  haughty  Herod  at  Jerusalem  ;  bow  in 
adoration  such  as  they  never  rendered  to  any 
earthly  sovereign.  And  that  act  of  worship 
over,  they  open  their  treasures  and  present  to 
him  their  gifts  :  the  gold,  the  frankincense,  and 
the  myrrh,  the  rarest  products  of  the  East ;  an 
offering  such  as  any  monarch  might  have  had 
presented  to  him  by  the  ambassadors  from  any 
foreign  prince.  When  we  take  the  whole  course 
of  these  men's  conduct  into  account ;  when  we 
remember  that  they  had  none  of  the  advan- 
tages of  a  Jewish  birth  or  education,  of  an 
early  acquaintance  with  the  Jewish  Scriptures  ; 


The  Yisit  of  the  Maqi.  85 

when  we  tliiuk  of  their  startmg  on  their  long 
and  perilous  journey  with  no  other  object  than 
the  making  of  this  single  obeisance  to  the  infant 
Redeemer  of  mankind  ;  when  we  look  at  them 
standing  unmoved,  amid  all  the  discourage- 
ments of  the  Jewish  metropolis  ;  when  we 
attend  them  on  theh^  solitary  way  to  Bethlehem  ; 
when  we  stand  by  their  side,  as  beneath  that 
lowly  roof  they  silently  worship,  and  spread 
out  their  costly  gifts, — we  cannot  but  regard 
their  faith  as  in  many  of  its  features  unparal- 
leled in  the  gospel  narrative  5  we  cannot  but 
place  them  in  the  front  rank  of  that  goodly 
company  in  whose  acts  the  power  and  the  tri- 
umph of  a  simple  faith  shine  forth. 

That  single  act  of  homage  rendered,  they  re- 
turn to  their  own  country,  and  we  hear  of  them 
no  more.  They  come  like  spirits  casting  no 
shadow  before  them  ;  and  like  spirits  they  de- 
part, passing  away  into  that  obscurity  from 
which  they  had  emerged.  But  our  affection 
follows  them  to  their  native  land, — would  fain 
penetrate  the  secret  of  their  after  lives  and 
deaths.  Did  these  men  see,  and  hear,  and  know 
no  more  of  Jesus  ?  Were  they  living,  when — 
after  thirty  years  of  profoundest  silence,  not  a 
rumor  of  his  name  going  anywhere  abroad — 


86  The  Visit  of  the  Magi. 

tidings  came  at  last  of  the  words  he  spake,  the 
deeds  he  did,  the  death  he  died  ?  We  would 
fain  believe,  so  far,  the  quaint  old  legend  of  the 
middle  ages,  that  connects  itself  with  the  fan- 
cied resting-place  of  their  relics  in  the  Cathe- 
dral of  Cologne  ;  we  would  fain  believe  that 
they  lived  to  converse  with  one  of  the  apostles 
of  the  Lord,  and  to  receive  Christian  baptism 
at  his  hands.  However  it  may  have  been,  we 
can  scarce  believe  that  He  whose  star  carried 
them  from  their  eastern  homes  to  Bethlehem, 
and  whose  Spirit  prompted  the  worship  they 
then  rendered,  left  them  to  die  in  heathen  ig- 
norance and  unbelief.  Let  us  cherish  rather 
the  belief  that  they  who  bowed  so  reverently 
before  the  earthly  cradle,  are  now  worshipping 
with  a  profounder  reverence  before  the  heav- 
enly throne. 

But  what  special  significance  has  this  incident 
in  the  early  life  of  our  Redeemer  ?  Why  were 
these  men  summoned  from  their  distant  homes 
to  come  so  far,  to  pay  that  single  act  of  homage 
to  the  infant  Jesus,  and  then  retire  forever 
from  our  sight?  Why,  but  that  even  with  the 
first  weak  beginnings  of  the  Saviour's  earthly 
life,  there  might  be  a  foretokening  of  the  wide 
embrace  of  that  kingdom  he  came  to  estabhsh  ; 


The  Visit  op  the  Magi.  87 

a  first  fulfilling  of  those  ancient  prophecies 
which  had  foretold  that  the  Gentiles  should 
come  to  this  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness 
of  its  rising  ;  that  all  they  from  Sheba  should 
come,  bringing  gold  and  incense.  These  east- 
ern Magi  were  the  earliest  ambassadors  from 
heathen  lands,  the  first  shadowy  precursors  of 
that  great*company  to  be  gathered  in  from  the 
east,  and  from  the  west,  and  from  the  north, 
and  from  the  south,  to  sit  down  with  Abraham 
in  the  kingdom  of  the  just.  In  these  persons, 
and  in  their  act,  the  Gentile  world,  of  which 
they  formed  a  part,  gave  an  early  welcome  to 
the  Redeemer,  and  hastened  to  lay  its  tribute 
at  his  feet.  They  were  in  fact, — and  this  should 
bind  them  the  closer  to  our  hearts, — they  were 
our  representatives  at  Bethlehem,  making  for 
us  Gentiles  the  first  expression  of  our  faith,  the 
first  offer  of  our  allegiance.  Let  us  rightly 
follow  up  what  they  did  in  our  name.  First, 
they  worshipped,  and  then  they  gave  the  best 
and  richest  things  they  had.  The  gold,  the 
frankincense,  the  myrrh,  had  been  of  little 
worth  had  the  worship  of  the  heart  not  gone 
before  and  sanctified  the  gift.  But  the  gift 
most  appropriately  followed  the  worship. 
First,  then,  let  us  give  ourselves  to  the  Lord, 


88  TSE  Visit  of  the  IVIagi. 

our  heart  the  first  oblation  that  we  proffer  ; 
for  the  heart  once  given,  the  hand  will  neither 
be  empty  nor  idle,  nor  will  it  grudge  the  rich- 
est thing  that  it  can  hold,  nor  the  best  service 
it  can  render. 


V. 


THE    MASSACRE    OF    THE    INNOCENTS,    AND    THE 
FLIGHT   INTO   EGYPT.* 


THERE  are  three  Herods  who  appear  prom- 
inently in  the  pages  of  the  New  Testament. 
First,  Herod  the  Great,  the  son  of  a  crafty  and 
wealthy  Idumean  or  Edomite,  who,  during  the 
reign  of  the  last  of  the  Asmonean  princes,  at- 
tained to  great  political  influence  in  Judea,  se- 
curing for  his  eldest  son,  Phasselus,  the  gover- 
norship of  Jerusalem ;  and  for  Herod,  his 
younger  son,  the  chief  command  in  Galilee. 
Phasoelus  was  cut  off  in  one  of  those  political 
commotions  which  the  raising  of  a  foreign 
family  to  such  an  elevated  position  engendered, 
but  Herod  escaped  all  the  perils  to  which  he 
was  thus  exposed,  distinguished  himself  by  his 

•  Matthew  ii.  13-23. 


90  The  Massacee  of  the  Innocents. 

address  and  bravery,  showed  great  political 
foresight  in  allying  himself  closely  with  the 
power  which  he  saw  was  to  prevail  in  Judea 
as  over  all  other  lands,  sought  and  won  the 
personal  friendship  of  Cassius  and  of  Mark  An- 
tony, and,  mainly  by  the  influence  of  the  latter, 
was  proclaimed  King  of  the  Jews. 

Second,  Herod  Antipas,  a  son  of  this  first 
Herod,  who,  in  that  division  of  his  father's 
kingdom  which  took  place  at  his  decease,  be- 
came Tetrarch  of  Galilee  and  Perea.  This  was 
the  Herod  who  so  often  appears  in  the  narra- 
tive of  our  Lord's  ministry,  who  at  first  heard 
John  the  Baptist  gladly,  but  who  afterwards 
gave  the  order  for  his  execution  ;  who  hap- 
pened to  be  in  Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  Christ's 
trial  and  condemnation,  and  who  was  brought 
then  into  such  singular  contact  with  Jesus. 

Tliird,  Herod  Agrippa,  a  grandson  of  the 
first  Herod,  though  not  a  son  of  Herod  Antipas, 
who  was  invested  by  the  Romans  with  the 
royal  dignity,  and  ruled  over  all  the  country 
which  had  been  subject  to  his  grandfather. 
This  was  the  Herod  who  appears  in  the  history 
of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  ;  who  stretched 
forth  his  hands  to  vex  certain  of  the  church  ; 
who  killed  James,  the  brother  of  John,  with 


The  Massacke  of  the  Innocents.  91 

the  sword  ;  who,  because  he  saw  that  it  pleased 
the  Jews,  proceeded  to  take  Peter  also  ;  and 
whose  awful  death  so  soon  afterwards  at  Caesa- 
rea,  St.  Luke  has  so  impressively  recorded. 

Our  Saviour,  we  know,  was  born  near  the 
end  of  the  long  reign  of  the  first  of  these 
Herods,  and  the  latest  and  most  successful  in- 
vestigations of  the  chronology  of  Christ's  life 
have  taught  us  to  believe  that  it  was  in  the 
last  year  of  Herod's  reign,  and  close  upon  that 
monarch's  last  illness  and  death,  that  the  birth 
at  Bethlehem  took  place.  The  terrible  malady 
which  made  his  closing  scene  not  less  awful 
than  that  of  his  grandson  Agrippa,  had  already 
begun  its  work,  and  given  forewarning  of  the 
fatal  issue.  He  was  in  a  moody,  suspicious, 
vengeful  state  of  feeling.  His  reign  had  long 
been  outwardly  brilliant  and  prosperous.  He 
had  defeated  all  the  schemes  of  his  political  op- 
ponents. With  a  firm  and  cruel  hand  he  had 
kept  down  all  attempts  at  intestine  revolt.  By 
a  large  remission  of  taxation,  by  extraordinary 
liberality  in  times  of  famine,  by  lavish  expen- 
diture on  public  works,  the  erection  of  new 
cities  and  the  rebuilding  of  the  Temple  at  Je- 
rusalem, he  had  sought  to  dazzle  the  public 
eye    and   win  the  public  favor.     But  nothing 


92         The  Massacre  of  the  Innocents. 

could  quench  the  Jewish  suspicion  of  him  as 
an  Edomite.  This  suspicion  fed  upon  his  at- 
tempts to  introduce  and  encourage  heathen 
games  and  pastimes,  and  grew  intensely  bitter 
as  it  watched  with  what  unrelenting  hate  he 
persecuted  and  cut  of  all  the  members  of  that 
Maccabean  family  whose  throne  he  had  usurped, 
around  whom  Jewish  gratitude  and  hope  still 
fondly  clung.  This  ill-concealed  enmity  preyed 
upon  the  proud,  dark  spirit  of  Herod.  It 
taught  him  to  see  his  deadliest  foes  in  the 
bosom  of  his  own  family.  Passionately  at- 
tached to  her,  he  had  married  the  beautiful 
but  ill-fated  Mariamne,  the  daughter  of  Alex- 
ander, one  of  the  Asmonean  princes.  She  in- 
herited the  pride  and  ambition  of  her  family  ; 
bitterly  resenting,  as  well  she  might,  the  secret 
order  which  she  discovered  Herod  had  issued, 
that  she  should  be  cut  off  if  he  failed  to  secure 
the  throne  for  himself  in  the  embassage  to 
Rome  which  he  undertook  after  the  defeat  of 
Mark  Antony,  his  first  patron.  Her  resent- 
ment of  tliis  order  had  the  worst  interpretation 
put  upon  it,  and  in  the  transport  of  a  jealousy 
in  which  both  personal  and  pohtical  elements 
were  combined,  Herod  ordered  her  to  be  be- 
headed.    Then  followed  those  transports  of  re- 


The  Massacbe  of  the  Innocents.         93 

morse,  which,  for  a  time,  bereft  the  frantic 
prince  of  reason.  Mariamne  gone,  the  father's 
jealousy  was  directed  to  his  two  sons  by  her. 
in  whose  veins  the  hated  Asmonean  blood  was 
flowing.  He  sent  for  Antipater,  his  son  by  the 
wife  he  had  divorced  in  order  to  marry  Mari- 
amne, and  set  him  up  as  their  rival  and  his 
successor.  But  the  popular  favor  clung  to 
Alexander  and  Aristobulus,  the  sons  of  the 
murdered  Mariamne.  Herod's  court  and  family 
became  a  constant  gloomy  scene  of  dissension 
and  distrust.  Charges  of  treasonable  designs 
on  the  part  of  Alexander  and  Aristobulus 
against  his  person  and  government  were  se- 
cretly poured  into  the  ear  of  Herod.  Men  of 
inferior  rank,  supposed  to  be  unplicated,  were 
seized,  tortured,  and  executed,  till  at  last,  by 
their  father's  own  order,  the  two  young  princes, 
then  in  the  flower  of  their  early  manhood,  were 
strangled.  Antipater  had  been  the  chief  in- 
strument in  urging  Herod  on  to  this  inhuman 
deed,  and  now  in  that  very  son  whom  he  had 
done  so  much  for,  he  fouud  the  last  worst  ob- 
ject of  his  jealous  wrath.  Antipater  was  proved 
to  have  conspired  to  poison  his  old,  doting, 
diseased,  and  dying  father.  He  was  summoned 
to  Jerusalem.     Herod  raised  himself  from  his 


94  The  Massacee  of  the  Innocents. 

bed  of  suffering,  and  gave  the  order  for  hia 
e:xecution.  His  own  death  drew  on.  It  mad- 
dened him  to  thinii  that  there  would  be  none 
to  mourn  for  him  ;  that  at  his  death  there 
would  be  a  general  jubilee.  The  fiendish  idea 
seized  him,  that  if  there  were  none  who  volun- 
tarily would  weep  for  him,  there  should  at  least 
be  plenty  of  tears  shed  at  his  death  ;  and  so 
his  last  command — a  command  happily  not  ex- 
ecuted— was,  that  the  heads  of  all  the  chief 
tixmilies  in  Judea  should  be  assembled  in  the 
Hippodrome,  and  that  as  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  he  had  drawn  his  last  breath,  they  should 
be  mercilessly  slaughtered  ;  and  thus,  his  body 
consumed  by  inward  ulcers,  and  his  spirit  with 
tormenting  passions,  Herod  died. 

I  have  recited  thus  much  of  this  King's  his- 
tory, that  you  may  see  in  what  harmony  with 
his  other  doings  was  his  massacre  of  the  inno- 
cents at  Bethlehem.  When  he  heard  of  the 
coming  of  the  Magi,  and  of  the  birth  of  this 
new  King  of  the  Jews,  the  sceptre  was  already 
dropping  from  his  aged  and  trembling  hands.* 
But  as  the  dying  hand  of  avarice  clutches  its 
gold  the  firmer  as  it  feels  the  hour  draw  on 

*  He  was  seventy  years  old  when  he  died. 


The  Massacbe  of  the  Innocents.  95 

when  it  must  give  it  up,  so  did  the  dying  hand 
of  ambition  clutch  the  sceptre,  and  he  deter- 
mined that  if  he  could  hold  it  no  longer,  he 
would  at  least  try  to  cut  off  all  who  might 
claim  to  wield  it  at  his  death.  A  lifetime's 
practice  had  made  him  a  proficient  in  craft. 
He  inquired  privily  of  the  wise  men  as  to  the 
time  at  which  the  star  appeared.  Had  he 
even  then,  when  he  made  this  inquiry,  matured 
his  bloody  project  ;  and  did  he  wish,  by  know- 
ing the  precise  time  of  the  star's  appearance,  to 
assure  himself  of  the  exact  age  of  the  child  he 
intended  to  destroy  ;  or  was  the  inquiry  made 
for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  whether  any 
like  star  had  been  seen  anywhere  m  Judea, 
seeking  thus  to  confirm  or  invalidate  what  the 
wise  men  said  ?  This  only  we  can  say,  that  if 
it  were  but  a  few  days  after  the  birth  of  Jesus 
that  the  Magi  visited  Jerusalem,  and  if  the 
order  that  Herod  afterwards  issued  to  his  ex- 
ecutioners was  founded  on  the  information  giv- 
en him  as  to  the  time  of  the  star's  appearance, 
then  the  first  appearance  of  the  star  must  have 
been  coincident,  not  with  the  birth  of  Jesus, 
but  with  the  annunciation  of  that  birth  to 
Mary.  Herod  may  have  fancied  from  what  he 
learned  from  the  Magi  that  the  child  must  now 


96  The  Massacee  of  the  Innocents. 

be  about  a  year  old,  and,  giving  a  broad  mar- 
gin, that  no  chance  of  escape  might  be  given, 
his  order  ran  that  all  under  two  years  of  age 
should  be  destroyed. 

Perhaps,  however,  Herod's  only  object  in  his 
first  private  interview  with  the  Magi  was  to 
extract  from  them  all  the  information  he  could, 
with  no  precise  or  definite  purpose  as  to  how 
he  should  act  upon  the  information  so  ob- 
tained. When  he  told  them  to  go  and  search 
diligently  for  the  child,  and  when  they  had 
found  him,  to  come  and  bring  him  word,  it  was 
not  with  any  purpose  on  his  part  to  go  and 
worship  him — in  saying  that  he  meant  to  do 
so,  we  may  well  believe  him  to  have  been 
playing  the  hypocrite — but  neither  may  it 
have  been  with  an  already  fixed  resolution  to 
act  as  he  afterwards  did.  But  the  wise  men 
did  not  return  ;  he  ascertained  that  they  had 
been  in  Bethlehem,  that  they  had  left  that 
place,  that  without  coming  to  see  him  and  re- 
port as  to  the  result  of  their  search,  they  were 
already  beyond  his  reach  on  their  way  back  to 
their  distant  home.  The  birth  was  by  this 
very  circumstance  made  all  the  surer  in  his 
eyes,  and  to  his  natural  alarm  at  such  a  birth, 
there  was  now  added  bitter  chagrin  at  being 


The  Massacre  of  the  Innocents.  97 

mocked  in  this  way  by  these  strangers.  Had 
they  seen  through  the  mask  which  he  imagined 
he  had  fashioned  so  artfully  and  worn  so  well  ? 
Nothing  galls  the  crafty  more  than  when  their 
craft  is  discovered,  and  the  discovery  is  turned 
against  themselves.  Angry  with  the  men  who 
had  treated  him  thus,  Herod  is  angry,  too,  with 
himself  for  having  given  them  the  opportunity 
to  outwit  him.  Why  had  he  not  sent  some  of 
his  own  trusty  servants  with  them  to  Bethle- 
hem ?  Why  had  he  been  so  foolish  as  to  trust 
these  foreigners  ?  Irritated  at  them,  irritated 
at  himself,  determined  that  this  child  shall  not 
escape,  he  sends  his  bandits  out  upon  their 
bloody   errand. 

That  errand  was  to  be  quickly  and  stealthily 
executed.  In  so  small  village  as  Bethlehem, 
and  in  the  thinly  scattered  population  which 
lay  around  it,  there  could  be  but  a  few  male 
infants  under  two  years  old.  It  is  but  one  of 
the  dreams  of  the  middle-age  imagination 
which  has  swelled  the  numbers  of  the  slaugh- 
tered to  thousands  ;  one  or  two  dozens  would 
be  nearer  to  the  mark,  A  few  practised  hands 
such  as  Herod  could  easily  secure  would  have 
little  difficulty  in  finishing  their  work  m  the 
course  of  one  forenoon.     It  was  spring-time  of 


98  The  Massacre  of  the  Innocents 

tlie  year  ;*  the  parents  were  busy  in  the  fields  ;• 
the  unprotected  homes  kiy  open.  Before  any 
concerted  resistance  could  be  offered,  half  the 
children  might  be  slain.  Every  precaution,  we 
may  believe,  was  taken  by  Herod,  that  it  should 
not  be  known  at  whose  instance  the  deed  was 
done.  He  was  too  wily  a  politician  to  make 
any  such  public  manifestation  of  his  vindictive 
alarm,  as  his  sending  forth  a  company  of 
executioners,  clothed  visibly  with  the  royal 
authority,  would  have  made.  But  secretly, 
promptly,  vigorously  as  his  measures  were 
taken,  they  came  too  late.  When  told  that 
not  a  child  of  the  specified  age  had  been  per- 
mitted to  escape,  he  may  have  secretly  con- 
gratulated himself  on  that  peril  to  his  govern- 
ment being  thus  summarily  set  aside.  But  an 
eye  more  vigilant  than  his  was  watching  over 
the  safety  of  the  infant  Jesus.  In  a  dream 
of  the  night  the  angel  of  the  Lord  had  ap- 
peared to  Joseph  ;  told  him  of  the  impending 
peril,  and  specially  directed  him  as  to  the  man- 
ner of  escape.  Without  an  hour's  delay  the 
warning  given  was  acted  on.  The  journey 
from  Bethlehem  to  the  nearest  part  of  Egypt 

*  It  has  been  accurately    ascertained  that  Herod  must  have 
died  between  the  13th  March  and  the  ith  April,  750  a.  u.  o. 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  99 

was  soon  performed,  and  secured  from  the 
stroke  of  Herod's  bandits  and  placed  beyond 
the  after  reach  of  Herod's  wrath,  the  child  was 
safe.  The  flight  was  hasty  and  the  sojourn  in 
Egypt  was  but  short.*  The  way  for  the 
return  was  open,  and  in  fulfiUment  of  his 
promise  the  angel  came  to  Joseph  to  tell  him 
that  they  were  dead  who  sought  the  young 
child's  hfe.  Struck  by  all  the  chcumstances 
which  had  accompanied  the  birth  there,  Joseph 
and  Mary  had  perhaps  resolved  to  take  up 
their  residence  in  Bethlehem.  But  on  enter- 
ing Judea  they  heard  that  though  Herod  was 
dead,  his  son  Archelaus  ruled  in  his  stead  ;  a 
prince  who  early  proved  that  the  spirit  of  his 
father  had  descended  on  him,  one  of  the  first 
acts  of  his  reign  being  the  slaughter  of  three 
thousand  of  his  countrymen  in  Jerusalem. 
The  apprehensions  of  Joseph  were  verified  by 
the  angel  once  more  appearing  to  him  in  a 
dream,  and  directing  him  to  pass  on  through 
Judea,  and  take  up  his  abode  again  in  Naza- 
reth, a  hamlet  in  the  province  of  Gahlee. 

*  Accepting  either  the  close  of  the  year  749  a.  u.  c.  or  the 
beginning  of  750  a.  v.  c.  as  the  most  probable  date  of  the  birth 
of  Christ,  and  assuming  that  the  visit  of  the  Magi  succeeded  the 
presentation  hi  the  Temple,  the  stay  in  Egypt  could  have  been 
but  short 


100         The  Massacke  of  the  Innocents 

In  the  narrative  of  this  passage  of  our  Lord's 
infant  life  as  given  by  St.  Matthew,  two  things 
strike  us. 

1.  The  prominent  part  assigned  to,  and  as- 
sumed by  Joseph  as  the  earthly  guardian  of 
the  child  ;  the  frequency,  the  minuteness,  and 
the  manner  in  which  these  divhie  intimations 
were  made  to  him  on  which  he  acted.  In 
every  instance  it  was  in  a  dream  of  the  night 
that  the  heavenly  warning  came.  Nor  was  the 
warning  in  any  instance  vague,  but  remarkably 
definite  and  satisfactory.  He  was  told  at  first 
not  simply  that  danger  was  at  hand  ;  he  was 
told  specifically  what  that  danger  was  :  "  Herod 
will  seek  the  young  child  to  destroy  him."  He 
was  told  not  simply  to  escape  from  Bethlehem, 
but  to  flee  into  Egypt ;  of  Herod's  death  he 
got  timely  information,  and  while  hesitating  as 
to  what  he  should  do  on  his  return  into  Judea, 
he  had  his  doubts  removed  and  his  fears  allayed 
by  another  divine  direction.  Are  we  wrong  in 
interpreting  the  heavenly  messenger's  manner 
of  acting  towards  the  foster-parent  of  our  Sa- 
viour as  indicative  of  a  very  watchful  and  ten- 
der solicitude  on  Joseph's  part  for  the  safety 
of  that  strange  child  to  whom  he  was  united 
by  so  strange  a  tie  ?     He  appears  as  the  heaven- 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  103 

appointed,  heaven-instructed  sentinel,  set  to 
watch  over  the  infant  days  of  the  Son  of  the 
Highest,  chosen  for  this  office,  and  aided  in  its 
discharge,  not  without  such  regard  to  his  per- 
sonal qualifications  as  is  ordinarily  shown  un- 
der the  divine  government  in  the  selection  of 
fit  agents  for  each  part  of  the  earthly  work. 
We  are  led  thus  to  think  of  him  as  taking  an 
almost  more  than  paternal  interest  in  the  babe 
committed  to  his  care,  thinking  about  him  so 
much  and  so  anxiously  by  day  that  his  dreams 
by  night  are  of  him,  and  that  it  is  in  these 
dreams  the  angel  comes  to  give  the  needed 
guidance,  and  to  seal,  as  it  were,  by  the  divine 
approval,  the  watchful  care  by  which  the  dreams 
had  been  begotten.  And  we  are  the  more  dis- 
posed to  think  thus  favorably  of  Joseph  as  we 
reflect  upon  the  peculiar  relationship  in  which 
he  stood  to  Jesus,  and  remember  that  this  is 
the  only  glimpse  we  get  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  duties  of  that  relationship  were  discharged. 
In  the  record  of  our  Lord's  ministry  he  never 
appears.  The  conclusion  seems  natural  that 
he  had  died  before  that  ministry  began.  It  is 
only  in  his  connexion  with  the  birth  and  in- 
fancy and  childhood  of  Jesus  that  any  sight  of 
Joseph  is  obtained,  and  it  pleases  us  to  think 


102        The  Massacee  of  the  Innocents 

that  be  who  was  honored  to  be  the  guardian 
of  that  sacred  bfe  in  the  first  great  peril  to 
which  it  was  exposed,  was  one  not  unworthy 
of  the  trust,  but  who  lovingly,  faithfully,  ten- 
derly executed  it. 

2.  In  reading  this  portion  of  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Matthew,  we  are  struck  with  the  frequent 
references  to  the  history  and  prophecies  of  the 
Old  Testament.  Such  references  are  peculiar 
to  St.  Matthew,  and  they  are  due  to  the  char- 
acter of  those  to  whom  his  Gospel  was  espe- 
cially addressed,  and  to  the  object  he  had  es- 
pecially in  view.  His  Gospel  was  written  for 
converted  Jews  and  his  great  aim  was  to  pre- 
sent to  such  Jesus  Christ  as  the  Messiah  prom- 
ised to  their  fathers.  Continually,  therefore, 
throughout  his  narrative,  as  almost  nowhere  in 
the  narratives  of  the  other  Evangelists,  he 
quotes  from  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  with 
the  view  of  showing  how  accurately  and  com- 
pletely they  were  fulfilled  in  the  life  and  death 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  The  very  formula, 
"  that  it  might  be  fulfilled,"  is  peculiar  to  the 
first  Gospel.  The  method  thus  followed  by 
St.  Matthew  was  admirably  fitted  to  soothe  the 
prejudices  of  Jewish  converts,  and  establish 
them  in  a  true  faith  in  Christ.     Thus  it  is  that 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  103 

in  the  passage  now  before  us,  he  attempts  to 
obviate  objections  that  might  naturally  arise  in 
Jewish  mmds,  on  their  being  told  of  such 
events — to  them  so  untoward  and  unlooked- 
for — in  the  life  of  the  infant  Messiah  as  his 
being  forced  to  find  a  temporary  retreat  in  the 
land  of  Egypt,  the  slaughter  of  so  many  infants 
on  his  account,  and  the  fixing  of  his  abode  in  a 
remote  hamlet  of  Galilee.  Nothing  could  be 
more  calculated  to  allay  any  prejudice  created 
by  the  recital  of  such  incidents  than  to  point 
to  parallel  or  analogous  ones  in  the  history  of 
ancient  Israel.  The  three  citations  of  this  kind 
which  St.  Matthew  makes  differ  somewhat  in 
their  character.  Of  only  one  of  them  is  it  cer- 
tain that  there  was  a  literal  fulfillment  of  a  pro- 
phecy uttered  with  immediate  and  direct  ref- 
erence to  Christ.  He  came  and  dwelt,  it  is 
said,  in  Nazareth,  "  that  it  might  be  fulfilled 
which  was  spoken  by  the  prophets,  He  shall 
be  called  a  Nazarene."  Yet  it  is  singular  that 
this  prophecy,  which  was  obviously  one  spoken 
directly  of  the  Messiah,  is  nowhere  to  be  found 
in  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  as  they  now 
are  in  our  hands.  But  this  hinders  not  our 
belief  that  by  some  one  or  other  of  the  ancient" 
prophecies  the  words  that  St.  Mattliew  a  notes 


104         The  Massacre  of  the  Innocents 

had  been  spoken.  As  Jude  recites  and  ver- 
ifies a  prophecy  of  Enoch,  of  which  otherwise 
we  should  have  been  ignorant,  as  St.  Paul  re- 
ports a  saying  of  our  Lord  which  otherwise 
should  not  have  been  preserved,  so  St.  Matthew 
here  records  a  prophecy  which  but  for  his  cita- 
tion of  it  would  have  perished. 

It  is  different,  however,  with  the  other  two 
citations  from  ancient  prophecy.  These  we 
can  readily  lay  our  hands  upon,  and  in  doing 
so  become  convinced  that  St.  Matthew  did  not 
and  could  not  mean  to  assert  that  in  the  events 
which  he  related  they  had  directly  and  literally 
been  verified.  His  object  was  rather  to  de- 
clare—  and  that  was  sufficient — that  the  inci- 
dents to  which  those  old  prophecies  did  in  the 
first  instance  refer,  were  not  only  kindred  in 
character,  but  were  typical  or  symbolically 
prophetic  of  those  which  he  was  describing  in 
the  life  of  Jesus.  He  quotes  thus  a  part  of 
that  verse  in  the  11th  chapter  of  Hosea  which 
runs  thus :  "  When  Israel  was  a  child,  then  I 
loved  him,  and  called  my  son  out  of  Egypt." 
If  that  ancient  Israel  of  which  the  Lord  had 
said,  '  He  is  my  son,'  '  He  is  my  first-born,' 
while  yet  he  was  as  it  were  but  an  infant,  was 
carried  down  nito  and  thereafter  brought  safe 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  105 

out  of  Egypt,  was  it  a  strange  thing  that  He 
who  was  Jehovah's  own  and  only  Son,  the  first- 
born among  many  brethren,  of  whom  and  of 
whose  Church  that  Israel  was  a  type,  should 
in  his  infancy  have  passed  through  a  like  ordeal 
of  persecution  and  of  dehverance  ?  The  point 
of  the  fulfillment  of  the  prophecy  here  alleged 
does  not  lie  in  Hosea's  having  Christ  actually 
and  personally  in  his  eye  when  he  penned  the 
words  quoted  by  St.  Matthew,  but  in  the  fact 
related  by  Hosea  having  a  typical  reference  to 
a  like  fact  in  that  after  history  which  stands 
shadowed  forth  throughout  in  the  outward  his- 
tory of  ancient  Israel. 

It  is  in  the  same  way  that  we  are  to  under- 
stand the  quotation  from  the  31st  chapter  of 
the  prophecies  of  Jeremiah.  It  is  in  direct 
connexion  with  his  statement  of  the  fact  that 
Herod  sent  forth  and  slew  aU  the  children  that 
were  in  Bethlehem,  from  two  years  old  and 
under,  that  St.  Matthew  says,  "Then  was  ful- 
filled that  which  was  spoken  by  Jeremy  the 
prophet."  "  But  Matthew,"  says  Calvin,  "  does 
not  mean  that  the  prophet  had  predicted  what 
Herod  should  do,  but  that  at  the  advent  of 
Christ  that  mourning  was  renewed  which  many 
ages  before  the  women  of  Benjamin  had  made." 


106        The  Massacee  of  the  Innocents 

Primarily  the  words  of  the  prophet  referred  to 
the  carrying  away  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
tribes  of  Benjamin  and  Judah  captives  to  Baby- 
lon. In  describing  the  bitter  grief  with  which 
the  heart  of  the  country  was  then  smitten, 
Jeremiah,  by  a  figure  as  bold  as  it  is  pictur- 
esque and  impressive,  summons  the  long-buried 
Rachel,  the  mother  of  Benjamin,  from  her 
grave,  representing  her  as  roused  from  the 
sleep  of  ages  to  bewail  the  captivity  of  her 
children.  But  Rachel's  grave  lay  near  to  Beth- 
lehem, and  now  another  bitter  woe  had  come 
upon  the  land  in  the  murder  of  those  innocents 
in  that  village,  and  what  more  natural  than 
that  St.  Matthew  should  revive,  re-appropriate, 
and  re- apply  that  image  of  Jeremiah,  repre- 
senting Rachel  as  anew  issuing  from  her  tomb 
to  weep  over  these  her  slaughtered  children  ? 

But  there  was  something  more  here  than  a 
mere  apposite  application  to  a  scene  of  recent 
sorrow  of  a  poetical  image  that  originally  re- 
ferred to  the  grief  caused  by  the  captivity. 
That  very  grief  which  filled  the  land  of  Judah 
may  have  been  intended  to  prefigure  the  lam- 
entation that  now  filled  Bethlehem  and  all  its 
borders.  Rachel  rising  from  her  tomb,  and 
filling  the  air  then  with  her  lamentations,  may 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  107 

have  been  meant  to  stand  as  a  type  or  repre- 
sentative of  these  mothers  of  Bethlehem,  all 
torn  in  heart  by  the  snatching  of  their  little 
ones  from  their  struggling  arms,  and  the  kill- 
ing of  them  before  their  eyes.  If  it  be  so,  then 
that  passage  in  Jeremiah  speaks  of  something 
more  than  of  the  mere  suffering  mflicted  and 
the  sorrow  it  produced.  The  weeping  Rachel 
is  not  suffered  to  weep  on,  to  weep  out  her 
grief.  There  are  words  of  comfort  for  her  in 
her  tears.  There  is  a  message  from  the  Lord 
to  her  that  speaks  in  no  ambiguous  terms  of 
the  after-destiny,  the  future  restoration  of 
those  children  so  rudely  torn  from  then*  ma- 
ternal embrace.  For  what  are  the  words  which 
immediately  follow  those  which  St.  Matthew 
has  quoted: — "Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Refrain 
thy  voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes  from 
tears  :  for  thy  work  shall  be  -rewarded,  saith 
the  Lord  ;  and  they  shall  come  again  from  the 
land  of  the  enemy.  And  there  is  hope  in  thine 
end,  saith  the  Lord,  that  thy  children  shall 
come  again  to  their  own  border."  If  we  have 
any  right  to  apply  this  part  of  the  prophecy  to 
this  incident  of  the  evangelic  history,  then  may 
we  take  the  words  that  I  have  now  quoted  as 
carrying  with  them  the  assurance  that  those 


108       The  Massacee  op  the  Innocents. 

children  who  perished  under  the  stroke  of 
Herod's  hirehngs  died  not  spiritually ;  that 
they  shall  come  again  from  the  land  of  the  last 
enemy,  come  again  with  Him  whose  birth  was 
so  mysteriously  connected  with  their  death. 
We  know  that  those  infants,  whose  ghastly  re- 
mains the  weeping  mothers  gathered  up  to  lay 
in  their  untimely  graves,  shall  rise  again  in  the 
resurrection  at  the  last  day.  To  them  that 
resurrection,  itself  a  fruit  of  the  Saviour's  ad- 
vent, must  come  as  a  boon,  a  benefit,  not  as  a 
bane  or  curse.  Let  it  be  what  it  may  to  others, 
who  have  had  full  opportunity  to  receive  or 
reject  the  Saviour,  to  them  it  can  be  nothing 
else  than  a  resurrection  into  everlasting  life. 
To  believe  otherwise  of  them,  and  of  all  who 
die  in  infancy,  would  be  to  believe  that  those 
who  are  called  away  from  this  world  while  yet 
the  first  dew-drops  of  life  are  on  them,  are 
placed  thereby  in  a  worse  condition  than  that 
in  which  it  is  the  declared  purpose  of  the  gos- 
pel to  place  all  mankind.  It  is  a  belief  which 
we  cannot  adopt.  Our  assurance  is  clear,  and, 
as  we  think,  well  grounded — though  these 
grounds  we  cannot  now  pause  to  unfold — that 
aU  who  die  in  infancy  are  saved.  Distinguished 
among  them  all,  let  us  believe  this  of  those 


AND  THE  Flight  into  Egypt.  109 

slaughtered  babes  of  Bethlehem.  Their  fate 
was  smgularly  wrapped  up  with  that  of  the  in- 
fant Saviour.  The  stroke  that  fell  on  them 
was  meant  for  him  ;  the  sword  of  persecution 
which  swept  so  mercilessly  in  many  an  after 
age  through  the  ranks  of  Christ's  little  ones 
was  first  reddened  in  their  blood.  The  earliest 
victims  to  hatred  of  the  Nazarene — if  not  con- 
sciously and  willingly,  yet  actually  dying  for 
him — let  us  count  them  as  the  first  martyrs  for 
Jesus,  and  let  us  believe  that  in  them  the  truth 
of  the  martyr's  motto  was  first  made  good, 
"  Near  to  the  sword,  near  to  God."  "  0  bless- 
ed infants  !  "  exclaims  Augustine  ;  "He  who  at 
his  birth  had  angels  to  proclaim  him,  the 
heavens  to  testify,  and  Magi  to  worship  him, 
could  surely  have  prevented  that  these  should 
have  died  for  him,  had  he  not  known  that  they 
died  not  in  that  death,  but  rather  hved  in 
higher  bhss." 


VI. 


THE  THIRTY  TEARS  AT  NAZARETH CHRIST 

AMONG  THE  DOCTORS.* 


UP  among  the  hills  of  Galilee,  in  a  basin 
surrounded  by  swelling  eminences,  which 
shut  it  in  on  every  side,  lies  the  little  village 
of  Nazareth.  Its  name  does  not  occur  in  Old 
Testament  history.  Josephus  never  mentions 
it,  though  he  speaks  of  places  lying  all  around 
it.  Its  inhabitants  were  not  worse  than  their 
neighbors,  nor  exposed  on  account  of  their 
character  to  any  particular  contempt,  yet  Na- 
thanael,  himself  a  Galilean,  could  say,  Can 
there  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? 
so  small  and  insignificant  was  the  place.  It 
was  here,  as  in  a  fit  retreat,  that  the  childhood, 
youth,  and  early  manhood  of  our  Lord  passed 
quietly    and   unnoticed    away.     Those    thirty 

*  Luke  ii.  40-52. 


Cheist  among  the  Doctoks.  m 

years  of  the  life  of  the  Son  of  God  upon  this 
earth,  how  deeply  hidden  from  us  do  they  lie  ! 
how  profound  the  silence  regarding  them 
which  the  sacred  writers  preserve  !  a  silence 
all  the  more  remarkable  when  we  consider 
how  natural  and  strong  is  our  desire  to  know 
something,  to  be  told  something  of  the  earlier 
days  of  any  one  who,  at  some  after  period  of 
his  life,  has  risen  to  distinction.  But  all  that 
here  is  told  us  of  the  first  twelve  years  of  our 
Saviour's  hfe  is  that  the  child  grew,  waxed 
strong  in  spirit,  was  filled  with  wisdom,  and 
that  the  grace  of  God  was  upon  him.  Had 
any  of  these  wonders  which  attended  his  birth 
been  renewed,  had  anything  supernatural  oc- 
curred in  the  course  of  those  years,  we  may 
presume  it  would  have  been  related  or  alluded 
to.  Nothing  of  that  kind  we  may  infer  did 
happen.  Outwardly  and  inwardly  the  growth 
of  Jesus  under  Mary's  care  at  Nazareth,  obeyed 
the  common  laws  under  which  human  infancy 
and  childhood  are  developed.  Beyond  that 
gentle  patience  which  nothing  could  ruffle,  that 
simple  truthfulness  which  nothing  could  turn 
aside  ;  beyond  that  love  which  was  always  rea- 
dy to  give  back  smile  for  smile  to  Mary  and 
the  rest  around,  and  to  go  forth  rejoicingly  on 


112         The  Thiety  Tears  at  Nazaeeth. 

its  little  errands  of  kindness  within  the  home 
of  the  carpenter  ;  beyond  that  wisdom  which, 
wonderful  as  it  was,  was  childhke  wisdom  still, 
growing  as  his  years  grew,  and  deriving  its 
increase  from  all  the  common  sources  which 
lay  open  to  it ;  beyond  the  charm  of  all  the 
graces  of  childhood  in  their  full  beauty  and  in 
their  unsullied  perfection — there  was  nothing 
externally  to  distinguish  his  first  twelve  years. 
So  we  conclude  from  the  absence  of  all  notices 
of  them  in  the  gospel  narrative.  Of  the  void 
thus  left,  however,  the  Christian  Church  be- 
came early  impatient.  Many  attempts  were 
made  to  fill  it  up.  In  the  course  of  the  first 
four  centuries  numerous  pseudo -gospels  were 
in  circulation,  a  long  list  of  which  has  been 
made  up  out  of  the  references  to  them  which 
occur  in  the  preserved  writings  of  that  period.* 
Some  of  these  apocryphal  gospels  are  stiU  ex- 
tant, two  of  them  entitled  the  Gospel  of  the 
Infancy  ;  and  it  is  very  curious  to  notice  how 
those  succeeded  who  tried  to  lift  the  veil  which 
covers  the  earher  years  of  Christ.  One  almost 
feels  grateful  that  such  early  attempts  were 
made  to  fill  up  the  blank  which  the  four  Evan- 

*  See  Jones  on  the  Canon. 


Chkist  among  the  Doctoes.  113 

gelists  have  left  *  They  enable  us  to  contrast 
the  simphcity,  the  naturalness  and  consistency 
of  all  that  the  Evangelists  have  recorded  of 
Christ,  with  such  empty  and  unmeaning  tales. 
They  do  more.  These  apocryphal  gospels 
were  written  by  Chi-istians,  by  men  who  wished 
to  honor  Christ  ui  all  they  said  about  him  ;  by 
men  who  had  that  portraiture  of  his  character 
Defore  them  which  the  four  Gospels  supply  ; 
and  yet  we  find  them  narrating,  as  bemg  in 
what  seemed  to  them  entire  harmony  with  that 
character,  that  when  boys  interrupted  Jesus  in 

*  These  Gospels  of  the  iniancy  of  our  Lord  are  full  of  miracles 
of  the  most  frivolous  description,  miracles  represented  as  ■wrou'^lit 
first  by  the  simple  presence  of  the  infant,  by  the  clothes  he  wore, 
the  water  in  which  he  was  washed,  wrought  afterwards  by  the  Sou 
of  Mary  himself  as  he  grew  up  at  Nazareth,  many  alleged  incidents 
of  his  boyhood  there  being  gravely  related,  as  when  we  are  told 
that  he  and  the  other  children  of  the  village  went  out  to  play  to- 
gether, busying  themselves  in  making  clay  into  the  shapes  of  vari- 
ous birds  and  beasts,  whereupon  Jesus  commanded  his  beasts  to 
walk,  his  bii-ds  to  fly,  and  so  excelled  them  all  ;  or  again,  when  we 
are  told  that  passing  by  a  dyer's  shop  he  saw  many  pieces  of  cloth 
laid  out  to  be  dyed,  all  of  which  he  took  and  flung  into  a  ueigh- 
boring  furnace,  throwing  the  poor  owner  of  the  shop  into  an 
agony  of  consternation  and  grief,  and  then  pleasantly  relieving 
him  by  drawing  all  the  pieces  out  of  the  furnace,  each  one  now  of 
the  very  color  which  had  been  desired.  Such  are  the  specimens, 
chosen  chiefly  because  they  are  the  least  absiu-d  of  the  many 
which  are  recorded  in  these  Gospels.  It  was  thus,  as  these  writers 
would  exhibit  it,  that  the  early  boyhood  of  our  Lord  was  spent ; 
it  was  by  miracles  such  as  those  which  I  have  recited,  that  he  even 
then  distinguished  himselt 


114         The  Thirty  Teaes  at  Nazaeeth. 

his  play,  or  ran  against  him  in  the  street  of  the 
village,  he  looked  upon  them  and  denounced 
them,  and  they  fell  down  and  died.  It  was 
said,  I  believe  by  Rousseau,  that  the  conception 
and  dehneation  of  such  a  character  as  that  of 
the  man  Christ  Jesus,  by  such  men  as  the 
fishermen  of  Galilee,  would  have  been  a  greater 
miracle  than  the  actual  existence  of  such  a 
man.  In  these  apocryphal  gospels  we  have  a 
singular  confirmation  of  that  saying  ;  we  have 
the  proof  that  men  better  taught,  many  of 
them,  than  the  Apostles  even  when  they  had 
the  full  delineation  of  the  manhood  of  Jesus  in 
their  hands,  could  not  attempt  a  fancy  sketch 
of  his  childhood  without  not  only  violating  our 
sense  of  propriety,  by  attributing  to  him  the 
most  puerile  and  unmeaning  displays  of  divine 
power,  but  shocking  our  moral  sense,  and  falsi- 
fying the  very  picture  they  had  before  their 
eyes,  by  attributing  to  him  acts  of  vengeance. 
Joseph  and  Mary  "  went  to  Jerusalem  every 
year  at  the  feast  of  the  Passover."  The  Mo- 
saic law  required  that  all  the  male  inhabitant  a 
of  Judea  should  go  up  three  times  yearly  to 
the  capital,  to  keep  the  three  great  festivals  of 
the  Passover,  Pentecost,  and  Tabernacles.  A 
later  Rabbinical  authority  had  laid  an  injunction 


Chkist  among  the  Doctors.  115 

•j^on  women  to  attend  the  feast  of  the  Passover. 
Living  as  they  did  in  so  remote  a  part  of  the 
country,  it  is  probable  that  the  parents  of  our 
Lord  satisfied  themselves  with  going  up  to- 
gether once  yearly  to  Jerusalem  ;  Joseph  thus 
doing  less,  and  Mary  more  than  the  old  law 
enjoined.  When  Jesus  was  twelve  years  old, 
Joseph  and  Mary  took  him  up  with  them  to 
Jerusalem.  He  had  then  reached  that  age, 
when,  according  to  Jewish  reckoning,  he 
crossed  the  line  which  divides  childhood  from 
youth,  got  the  new  name  of  a  son  of  the  Lord, 
and  had  he  been  destined  to  any  public  office, 
would  have  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Rabbis, 
for  the  higher  instructions  which  their  schools 
supplied.  Jesus,  however,  had  received  no 
other  instruction  than  the  village  school,  at- 
tached to  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth,  had  sup- 
plied, and  was  destined  to  no  higher  employ- 
ment than  that  of  the  trade  his  father  followed. 
The  purpose  of  Joseph  and  Mary  in  taking 
him  up  with  them  to  Jerusalem  was  not  that 
he  might  be  placed  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  or 
any  other  of  the  great  distinguished  teachers 
of  the  metropolis,  but  simply  that  he  might  see 
the  holy  city,  and  take  part  with  them  in  the 
fiacred  services  of  the  Passover. 


116         The  Thirty  Years  at  Nazareth. 

There  a  new  world  opened  to  the  boy's 
wondermg  eyes.  With  what  interest  must  he 
have  looked  around,  when  first  he  trod  the 
courts  of  the  Temple,  and  gazed  upon  the  min- 
istering priests,  the  altar  with  its  bleeding 
sacrifice  and  rising  incense,  the  holy  place,  and 
the  secret  shrine  that  lay  behind  the  veil ! 
The  places,  too,  of  which  we  shall  have  to 
speak  immediately,  where  youths  of  his  own 
age  were  to  be  found,  would  not  be  left  un- 
visited.  What  thoughts  were  stirred  within 
his  breast  by  all  these  sights,  it  becomes  us  not 
even  to  attempt  to  imagine.  The  key  is  not 
in  our  hands  with  which  we  might  unlock  the 
mysteries  of  his  humanity  at  this  stage  of  its 
development.  He  has  himself  so  far  unveiled 
his  thoughts  and  feelings  as  to  teach  us  how 
natural  it  was  that  he  should  linger  in  the  holy 
city,  and  under  the  power  of  a  new  attraction 
feel  for  a  day  or  two  as  if  the  ties  that  bound 
him  to  Nazareth  and  to  his  home  there  were 
broken. 

The  seven  days  of  the  feast  went  by.  It 
had  been  a  crowded  procession  from  Galilee, 
which  Joseph  and  Mary  had  joined.  Qalilee 
was  then,  as  Josephus  informs  us,  very  thickly 
populated,  studded  with  no  less  than  two  hun- 


Cheist  among  the  Doctors.  117 

dred  and  forty  towns,  containing  each  fifteen 
thousand  inhabitants  or  more,  sending  forth  in 
the  war  with  the  Romans  an  army  of  no  less 
than  one  hundred  thousand  men.  The  separate 
companies  which  this  crowded  population  sent 
up  at  the  Passover  time  to  Jerusalem  would 
each  be  large,  and  as  the  youths  of  the  com- 
pany consorted  and  slept  near  one  another  in 
the  course  of  the  journey,  it  is  the  less  sur- 
prising that,  on  leaving  Jerusalem  to  return  to 
Nazareth,  Joseph  and  Mary  should  not  during 
the  day  have  missed  their  son,  who  had  stayed 
behind,  nor  have  become  aware  of  his  absence 
till  they  sought  for  him  among  his  companions 
when  they  rested  for  the  night.  The  discovery 
was  a  peculiarly  distressing  one.  What  if  some 
oversight  had  been  committed  by  them  ?  if 
they  had  failed  to  tell  their  son  of  the  time  of 
the  departure,  if  they  had  failed  to  notice 
whether  he  was  among  the  other  youths  be- 
fore they  left  the  city  ?  They  had  such  con- 
fidence in  that  child,  who  never  before  in  a 
single  instance  had  done  anything  to  create 
anxiety  or  distrust ;  they  were  so  sure  that  he 
would  be  where,  as  they  thought,  he  ought  to 
be,  that  they  had  scarcely  felt  perhaps  an  or- 
dinary   degree  of    parental    solicitude.     And 


118         The  Thiety  Teaes  at  Nazaeeth. 

where  could  he  now  be  ;  what  could  have 
happened  to  him  ?  Their  eager  inquiries  would 
probably  soon  satisfy  them  that  he  had  not 
fallen  aside  by  the  way,  that  he  had  never 
loined  the  returning  travellers,  that  he  must 
have  remained  behind  in  Jerusalem.  But  with 
whom  ?  for  what  ?  He  knew  no  friends  there 
with  whom  to  stay.  Had  some  accident  be- 
fallen him  ?  was  he  detained  against  his  will? 
Hid  any  one  at  Jerusalem  know  the  secrets  of 
his  birth  ;  were  there  any  there  who  still  sought 
the  young  child's  life  ?  Herod  was  dead  ;  Ar- 
chelaus  was  banished  ;  the  parents  themselves 
had  not  been  in  Jerusalem  since  the  time  they 
had  presented  the  infant  in  the  temple.  It 
was  not  likely  they  should  be  recognized  ;  none 
of  their  friends  at  Nazareth  knew  about  the 
mysteries  of  the  conception  and  the  birth. 
They  had  thought  there  was  no  risk  in  taking 
Jesus  with  them,  but  now  their  hearts  are  full 
of  dark  forebodings ;  some  one  may  have 
known,  may  have  told  ;  some  secret  design 
may  still  have  been  cherished.  Where  was 
their  child,  and  what  had  happened  unto 
him  ? 

You  may  imagine  what  a  night  of  sleepless 
anxiety  followed   their  discovery   at  the  first 


Christ  among  the  Doctors.  119 

nightly  resting-place  of  the  caravan.  Mid-day 
saw  them  back  in  the  city.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  after  three  days'  search  they  found  him  ^ 
if  we  count  the  day  of  their  return  as  one  of 
these  three,  there  would  still  be  one  entire 
day's  fruitless  search.  There  may  have  been 
two  such  days, — days  of  eager  inquiry  every- 
where throughout  the  city,  in  the  house  where 
they  had  lived,  among  all  those  with  whom 
they  had  had  any  converse  or  connexion.  At 
last  they  find  the  lost  one,  not  in  the  courts  of 
the  Temple,  not  in  any  of  those  parts  of  the 
edifice  consecrated  to  public  worship,  but  in 
one  of  those  apartments  in  the  outer  buildings 
used  as  a  school  of  the  Rabbis.  Among  the 
Jews  at  this  period,  each  synagogue  had  a 
schoolroom  attached  to  it,  in  which  the  rudi- 
ments of  an  ordinary  education  were  taught. 
Besides,  however,  these  schools  for  primary  in- 
struction, wherever  there  were  ten  men  in  a 
position  to  devote  their  whole  time  to  this  pur- 
pose, a  room  was  built  for  them,  in  which  they 
carried  on  their  pupils  in  all  the  higher  walks 
of  the  sacred  learning  of  the  Jews.  These 
constituted  the  schools  of  the  Rabbis,  and 
formed  an  important  instrument  in  the  support 
and    extension  of  that   system   of  Rabbinism 


120         The  Thiety  Teaks  at  Nazareth. 

which,  as  Mihnan  tells  us,  "  became,  after  the 
ruin  of  the  Temple,  and  the  extinction  of  the 
pubhc  worship,  a  new  bond  of  national  union, 
and  the  great  distinctive  feature  in  the  char- 
acter of  modern  Judaism."  There  were  three 
apartments  employed  in  this  way  attached  to 
the  Temple.  It  was  in  one  of  these  that  Jo- 
seph and  Mary  found  their  son.  He  was  sit- 
ting in  the  ordinary  attitude,  and  engaged  in 
the  ordinary  exercises  of  a  pupil  in  the  middle 
of  the  doctors,  hearing  them  and  asking  them 
questions, — the  Jewish  method  of  education 
being  chiefly  catechetical, — the  pupil  himself 
sometimes  answering  the  questions  put,  and 
astonishing  his  hearers  with  his  wisdom.  When 
this  strange,  rude-looking,  bright-looking,  sol- 
emn-looking Gahlean  boy  first  came  in  among 
them,  was  it  the  wisdom  he  then  showed  which 
drew  the  hearts  of  some  of  these  Rabbis  to 
him,  and  led  them,  as  if  anxious  to  gain  a 
scholar  who  might  turn  out  to  be  the  chief 
ornament  of  their  school,  to  take  him  in  and 
treat  him  tenderly  ?  Was  it  with  them,  in  the 
room  they  occupied  in  the  outer  Temple  build- 
ings, that  the  two  nights  in  which  Jesus  was 
separated  from  his  parents  were  spent  ?  The 
tie,  whatever  it  was,  between  him  and  them,  is 


Chekt  among  the  Doctors.  121 

now  destined  to  be  broken,  never  to  be   re- 
newed. 

Joseph  and  Mary  find  him  in  fhe  midst  of 
them.  Joseph  is  too  much  astonished  to  say 
anything,  nor  is  it  hkely  that  Mary  spoke  till 
he  had  gone  with  her  apart;  but  now  her 
burdened  mother's  heart  finds  utterance. 
*'S6n,"  she  says  to  him,  "  why  hast  thou  thus 
dealt  with  us  ?"  words  of  reproach  that  were 
new  to  Mary's  lips.  Never  before  had  she  to 
chide  that  child.  Never  before  had  he  done 
anything  to  requu-e  such  chiding.  But  now, 
when  it  appears  that  no  accident  had  happened, 
no  restraint  had  been  exercised,  that  it  had 
been  of  his  own  free  will  that  Jesus  had  parted 
from  his  parents,  and  was  sitting  so  absorbed 
by  other  persons  and  with  other  things,  she 
cannot  account  for  such  conduct  on  his  part 
It  looks  hke  neglect,  and  worse  ;  hke  indiffer- 
ence to  the  pain  which  he  must  have  known 
this  separation  would  cost  them.  "  Son,"  she 
says,  "  why  hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us  ?  Be- 
hold, thy  father  and  I  have  sought  thee  sor- 
rowing." 

Innocently,  artlessly,  childishly,  in  words 
which,  though  not  meant  to  meet  the  reproach 
with  a  rebuke,  yet  carried  with  them  much  of 


122         The  Thirty  Years  at  Nazareth. 

the  meaning  and  effect  of  the  words  spoken 
afterwards  at  the  marriage -feast  at  Cana,  Je- 
sus answers,  ''How  is  it  that  ye  sought  me?" 
'  could  you,  Mary,  beheve  that  I  would  act  un- 
der other  than  heavenly  guidance  ;  could  you 
allow  the  idea  of  my  being  liable  to  any  risk 
or  danger  simply  because  I  was  not  under 
your  eye  and  care  ;  do  you  not  know,  were 
you  not  told  whose  Son  I  truly  am  ;  and  should 
not  that  knowledge  have  kept  you  from  seek- 
ing and  sorrowing  as  you  have  done  :  wist  ye 
not,  that  wherever  I  was  I  must  have  been 
still  beneath  that  Father's  eye  and  care, — 
whatever  I  was  about,  I  must  have  been  about 
that  Father's  business  ?  Mary,  you  have  called 
me  Son,  and  I  acknowledge  the  relationship  ; 
you  have  called  Joseph  my  father ;  that  re- 
lationship I  disown  ;  my  own,  my  only  Father 
is  He  in  whose  house  you  have  now  found  me, 
whose  will  I  came  on  earth  to  do  ;  about 
whose  matters  I  must  constantly,  and  shall 
now  henceforth  and  forever  be  engaged.' 

It  is  in  this  consciousness  of  his  peculiar  re- 
lationship to  God,  now  for  the  first  time,  per- 
haps, fully  realized,  that  we  catch  the  true 
meaning,  and  can  discern  something  of  the  pur- 
pose  of  this  early,  only  recorded  incident  Id 


Christ  among  the  Doctoes.  123 

the  history  of  our  Lord's  youth.  Mary,  we 
are  told,  understood  not  the  answer  of  her  son 
With  the  knowledge  that  she  possessed,  we  can 
scarcely  imagine  that  she  had  any  difficulty  in 
at  once  perceiving  that  Jesus  spake  of  his 
Father  in  heaven,  and  comprehending  in  so  far 
at  least  the  meaning  of  his  words.  But  there 
may  have  been  a  special  reason  for  Mary's 
surprise  here — the  difficulty  she  felt  of  com- 
prehension and  belief.  It  cannot  readily  be 
imagined  that  she  had  herself  told  her  child 
during  the  first  twelve  years  of  his  life,  or  that 
any  one  else  had  told  him,  of  the  mystery  of 
his  birth.  From  the  first  dawning  of  conscious 
intelligence,  he  must  have  been  taught  to  call 
Joseph  father,  nor  had  it  outwardly  been  com- 
municated to  him  that  he  was  only  his  reputed 
father,  that  he  had  no  earthly  parent,  that  his 
true  and  only  father  was  God.  If  that  were 
the  actual  state  of  the  connexion  between 
Mary  and  Jesus  up  to  the  time  of  this  incident 
in  the  Temple  ;  if  she  had  never  breathed  to 
him  the  great  secret  that  he  was  none  other 
than  the  Son  of  the  Highest ;  if  there  had 
been  nothing  as  she  knew  there  was  not,  in  the 
quiet  tenor  of  the  hfe  which  for  twelve  years 
Jesus  lived,  to  afford  any  outward  indication 


]2i         The  Thiety  Teaes  at  Nazaketh. 

or  evidence,  either  to  himself  or  others  of  the 
nature  of  his  Sonship  to  God — then  how  sur- 
prised must  Mary  have  been  when  in  the  Tem- 
ple, and  by  that  answer  to  her  question,  Jesus 
informed  her  that  he  knew  all,  knew  whence 
he  was,  knew  for  what  he  came,  knew  that 
God  was  his  Father  in  such  a  sense  that  the 
discharge  of  his  business  carried  with  it  an 
obhgation  which,  if  the  time  and  the  season 
required,  overbore  all  obligation  to  real  or 
reputed  earthly  parents. 

But  whether  it  came  upon  Mary  by  surprise 
or  not,  was  there  no  object  in  letting  us  and 
all  believers  in  the  Saviour  know,  as  the  record 
of  this  incident  does,  that  Jesus  was  thus  early 
and  fully  alive  to  the  singularity  of  his  relation- 
ship to  God  ?  Conceive  that  it  had  been 
otherwise  ;  that  these  thirty  years  had  been 
veiled  in  an  impenetrable  obscurity  ;  that  not 
one  single  glimpse  had  been  given  of  how  they 
passed  away  ;  that  our  first  sight  of  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  had  been  when  he  stood  before 
John  to  be  baptized  in  the  waters  of  the  Jor- 
dan, and  to  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  descending 
upon  him.  How  natural  in  that  case  had  been 
the  impression  that  it  was  then  for  the  first 
time,  when  the  voice  from  heaven  declared  it, 


Chkist  among  the  Doctoes.  125 

that  he  knew  himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God  : 
that  it  was  then,  when  the  Spirit  first  de- 
scended, that  the  Divine  associated  itself  in 
close  and  ineffable  union  with  the  human. 
Then  had  those  thirty  years  appeared  in  a 
quite  different  light  to  us  ;  then  had  we  con- 
ceived of  him  as  living  throughout  their  course 
the  simple  common  life  of  a  Galilean  villager 
and  craftsman.  But  now  we  know,  and  we 
have  to  thank  this  narrative  of  St.  Luke  for 
the  information,  that  if  not  earher,  yet  certain- 
ly at  his  twelfth  year,  the  knowledge  that  he 
and  the  Father  were  one,  that  the  Father  was 
in  him,  and  that  he  was  in  the  Father,  had  vis- 
ited and  filled  his  spirit,  had  animated  and  reg- 
ulated his  life.  With  what  a  new  sacredness 
and  dignity  do  the  eighteen  years  that  inter- 
vened between  this  incident  and  that  of  his 
public  manifestation  to  Israel  become  invested, 
and  what  new  lessons  of  instruction  do  they 
bring  us  !  At  the  bidding  of  a  new  impulse, 
excited  within  his  youthful  breast  by  this  first 
visit  to  the  Temple,  he  breaks  for  a  day  or  two 
all  earthly  bonds,  and  seems  lost  amid  the  shad- 
ows of  the  Sanctuary,  absorbed  with  the  higher 
things  of  Him  who  was  worshipped  there.  But 
at  the  call  of  duty  his  hour  for  public  service, 


126         The  Thiety  Years  at  Nazaeeth. 

for  speaking,  acting,  suffering,  dying,  before  all 
and  for  all,  and  not  yet  come,  he  yields  at  once 
to  the  desire  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  and  returns 
with  them  to  Nazareth  j  becoming  subject  to 
them,  burying,  as  it  were,  this  great  secret  in 
his  breast ;  consenting  to  wait,  submitting  to 
all  the  restraints  of  an  ordmary  household, 
putting  himself  once  more  under  the  yoke  of 
parental  authority,  taking  upon  him  all  the 
common  obligations  of  son,  a  brother,  a  neigh- 
bor, a  friend,  a  Galilean  villager,  a  Jewish  cit- 
izen ;  discharging  all  without  a  taint  of  sin  ; 
travelling  not  an  inch  beyond  the  routine  of 
service  expected  in  these  relationships ;  doing 
absolutely  nothing  to  betray  the  divinity  that 
lay  within,  nothing  to  distinguish  himself  above 
others,  or  to  proclaim  his  heavenly  birth  ;  liv- 
ing so  naturally,  unostentatiously,  undemon- 
stratively,  that  neither  did  his  brethren  the  in- 
mates of  his  home,  his  own  nearest  relatives, 
believe  in  him,  discerning  not  in  all  those  years 
any  marks  of  his  divine  prophetic  character  ; 
his  name  so  little  known  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  that  Nathanael,  who  hved  in 
Cana,  a  few  miles  off,  had  never  heard  of  him, 
and  was  quite  unprepared  to  believe  PhQip, 
when  he  told  him,  that  in  one  Jesus  of  Naz- 


Cheist  among  the  Doctoks.  127 

areth  he  had  found  him  of  whom  Moses  in  the 
law,  and  the  prophets  did  write. 

From  the  bosom  of  that  thick  darkness 
which"  covers  the  first  thirty  years  of  our  Lord's 
earthly  hfe,  there  thus  shines  forth  the  hght 
which  irradiates  the  whole  period,  and  sheds 
over  it  a  lustre  brighter  than  ever  graced  the 
life  of  any  other  of  the  children  of  men.  You 
may  have  wondered  at  this  one  event  of  his 
childhood  being  redeemed  from  oblivion,  so 
insignificant  does  it  seem,  and  at  first  sight  so 
little  correspondent  with  our  preconceived  con- 
ceptions of  the  great  Messiah's  character  and 
work.  Looking  at  Jesus  as  nothing  more  than 
the  son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  there  might  be 
some  difficulty  in  explaining  his  desertion  of 
them  at  Jerusalem.  But  when  you  reflect  on 
his  self-recognition  at  this  time  as  the  Son  of 
God  ;  on  his  declaration  of  it  to  Mary  ;  on  his 
thenceforth  acting  on  it  in  life  ;  on  his  words 
in  the  Temple,  followed  by  eighteen  years  of 
self-denial,  and  gentle,  cheerful,  prompt  obedi- 
ence ;  on  his  growing  consciousness  of  his  di- 
vine lineage,  and  his  earthly  work  and  hea- 
venly heritage  ;  on  the  evils  he  came  on  earth 
to  expose  and  remedy  ;  on  the  selfishness,  the 
worldliness,  the   formalism,  the  hypocrisy,  he 


128         The  Thirty  Yeaes  at  Nazabeth. 

detected  all  around  him  at  Nazareth — when 
you  reflect  further  on  his  divine  reticence,  on 
his  sublime  and  patient  self-restraint,  on  his 
refraining  from  all  interference  in  public  mat- 
ters, and  all  exposure  to  public  notice,  on  his 
devoting  himself  instead  to  the  tasks  of  daily 
duty  in  a  very  humble  sphere  of  life  ;  when 
you  reflect  fixedly  and  thoughtfuUy  on  these 
things,  do  you  not  feel  that  there  rests  on  this 
portion  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  upon  its  intro- 
ductory and  explanatory  incident,  an  interest 
different  indeed  m  kind,  yet  in  full  and  perfect 
harmony  with  that  belonging  to  the  period 
when  he  stood  forth  as  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  ?  If  he  came  to  empty  himself  of  that 
glory  which  he  had  with  the  Father  before  the 
world  was,  to  take  upon  him  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant, to  seek  not  his  own  glory,  to  do  not  his 
own  will,  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  min- 
ister, then  assuredly  it  was  not  only  during  the 
three  years  of  his  public  ministry,  but  during 
all  the  three-and-thirty  years  of  his  hfe  on 
earth,  that  the  ends  of  his  mission  were  accom- 
plished. 

We  think,  I  apprehend,  too  little  of  these 
quiet  domestic  years  of  secluded,  unpretending 
piety  at  Nazareth.     Our  eyes  are  dazzled  by 


Cbkist  among  the  Doctoes.  129 

the  outward  glory  which  surrounded  his  path 
when  he  burst  at  last  from  his  long  conceal- 
ment, and  showed  himself  as  the  Son  of  the 
Ilighest ;  and  yet  there  is  a  sense  in  which  we 
should  have  more  interest  in  the  earlier  than 
in  the  later  period  of  his  life.  It  is  liker  the 
life  we  have  ourselves  to  lead.  The  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  is  more  of  a  pattern  to  us  than  the 
Jesus  of  Gethsemane  and  the  Cross,  He  was 
not  less  the  Son  of  God  in  the  one  case  than  in 
the  other  ;  not  less  in  the  one  character  than 
in  the  other  has  he  left  us  an  example  that  we 
should  follow  his  steps.  It  was  thus  the  great 
lesson  of  his  life  at  Nazareth,  as  interpreted  by 
his  sayings  in  the  Temple,  that  we  should  be 
doing  our  Father's  business  in  the  counting- 
house,  in  the  workshop,  at  the  desk,  as  much 
as  in  any  of  the  higher  or  more  pubhc  walks 
of  Christian  or  philanthropic  effort ;  that  a  life 
confined  and  devoted  to  the  faithful  execution 
of  the  simple,  humble  offices  of  daily  domestic 
duty,  if  it  be  a  life  of  faith  and  love,  may  be 
one  as  fuU  of  God,  as  truly  divine  and  holy,  as 
Christ-like  and  as  honoring  to  Christ,  as  a  life 
devoted  to  the  most  important  public  services 
that  can  be  rendered  to  the  Church  on  earth. 
In  the  quiet  and  deep-lying  valleys  of  hfe,  all 


130         The  Thirty  YeaxIS  at  Nazaeeth. 

liidden  from  human  eye,  who  may  tell  us  how 
many  there  are  who,  built  up  in  a  humble  trust 
in  Jesus,  and  animated  by  their  hope  in  him, 
are  performing  cheerfully  their  daily  tasks  be- 
cause a  Father's  wisdom  has  allotted  them,  and 
bearing  patiently  their  daily  burdens  because 
they  have  been  imposed  by  a  Father's  love  ? 
Content  to  live  and  labor,  and  endure  and  die, 
unnoticed  and  unknown,  earthly  fame  hanging 
no  wreath  upon  their  tomb,  earthly  eloquence 
dumb  over  their  dust,  these  are  they,  the  last 
among  men,  who  shall  be  among  the  first  in 
the  kingdom  of  the  just. 


vn. 

THE   FORERUNNER.* 

THE  same  angel  who  announced  to  Mary  at 
Nazareth  the  birth  of  Jesus,  had  six  months 
previously  announced  the  birth  of  John  to  the 
aged  priest  Zacharias,  as  he  ministered  before 
the  altar,  within  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem. 
Zacharias  was  informed  that  his  wife  Elizabeth 
should  have  a  son,  whose  name  was  to  be  John, 
who  was  to  be  "  great  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord," 
going  before  him  "in  the  spirit  and  power  of 
Elias,  to  make  ready  a  people  prepared  for  the 
Lord."  Zacharias  doubted  what  the  angel 
said.  At  once  as  a  punishment  of  his  incre- 
dulity, and  as  a  new  token  of  the  truth  of  the 
angelic  message,  he  was  struck  with  a  tempo- 
rary dumbness.  When  he  came  forth  he 
could  not  tell  his  brother  priests  or  the  assem- 
bled people  anything  about  what  he  had  seen 

•  Luke  i.  1-18  ;  Matt.  iii.  1-12;  Mark  i.  1-8. 


/^ 


132  The  Foreeuknee, 

or  heard  within.  From  the  signs  he  made, 
and  the  strange  awe-struck  expression  of  his 
comitenance,  they  fancied  he  had  seen  a  vision  j 
but  it  is  not  hkely  that  he  took  any  means  of 
correcting  whatever  false  ideas  they  entertained. 
His  one  wish,  was  to  get  home  and  reveal  the 
secret  to  his  wife  Elizabeth.  His  days  of  min- 
istration lasted  but  a  week,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  over,  he  hastened  to  his  residence  in 
the  hill  country  of  Judea.  In  due  time  what 
Gabriel  had  foretold  took  place.  The  child 
was  born.  The  eighth  day,  the  day  for  its 
circumcision,  and  the  bestowing  of  its  name 
arrived.  A  large  circle  of  relatives  assembled. 
They  proposed  that  the  child  should  be  called 
Zacharias,  after  his  father.  Foreseeing  that 
some  such  proposal  might  be  made,  Zacharias 
had  provided  against  any  other  name  than 
that  assigned  by  the  angel  being  given  to  his 
son.  Acting  upon  his  instructions,  Elizabeth 
interposed,  and  declared  that  the  child's  name 
should  be  John.  The  relatives  remonstrated. 
None  of  her  kindred,  they  reminded  her,  had 
ever  borne  that  name.  The  dumb  father  was 
now  by  signs  appealed  to.  He  called  for  a 
writing-table,  and  wrote  the  few  decisive 
words,  "His  name   is  John."     They  were  all 


The  Fokerukner.  133 

wondering  at  the  prompt  and  peremptory  set- 
tlement of  this  question,  when  another  and 
greater  ground  of  wonder  was  supphed :  the 
tongue  of  the  dumb  was  loosed,  and,  in  rapt, 
rhythmical,  prophetic  strains  that  remind  us 
forcibly  of  those  in  which,  three  months  before, 
and  in  the  same  dwelling,  Mary  and  Elizabeth 
had  exchanged  their  greetings,  he  poured  out 
fervent  thanks  to  God  for  having  visited  and 
redeemed  his  people,  and  foretold  the  high 
office  which  his  own  new-born  son  was  to  ex- 
ecute as  Forerunner  of  the  Messiah. 

With  that  scene  of  the  circumcision  day  the 
curtain  drops  upon  the  household  of  Zacharias 
and  Elizabeth,  nor  is  it  lifted  till  many  years 
are  gone,  and  then  it  is  the  child  only,  now 
grown  to  manhood,  who  appears.  His  parents 
had  been  well  stricken  in  years  at  the  date  of 
his  birth,  and  as  no  mention  of  them  is  made 
afterwards,  we  may  presume  that  like  Joseph 
they  were  dead  before  anything  remarkable  in 
the  hfe  of  their  son  had  happened.  Little  as 
we  know  of  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  life  of 
Jesus,  we  know  still  less  of  the  like  period  in 
the  life  of  John.  All  that  we  are  told  is  that 
till  the  time  of  his  showing  unto  Israel  he  was 
in  the  desert,  in  those  wild  and  lonely  regions 


134  The  Foeerxjnner. 

which  lay  near  his  birthplace,  skirting  the 
northwestern  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  True 
to  the  angelic  designation,  accepting  the  vow 
that  marked  him  as  a  Nazarite  from  his  birth, 
John  separated  himself  early  from  home  and 
kindred,  retired  from  the  haunts  of  men, 
buried  himself  in  the  rocky  solitudes  of  the 
wilderness,  letting  his  hair  grow  till  it  fell  loose 
and  dishevelled  over  his  shoulders,  denying 
himself  to  all  ordinary  indulgences,  whether  of 
food  or  dress,  clothing  himself  with  the  rough- 
est kind  of  garment  he  could  get,  a  robe  of 
hair-cloth,  bound  around  him  with  a  leathern 
girdle,  satisfying  himself  by  feeding  on  the  lo- 
custs and  wild  honey  of  the  desert.  But  it 
was  not  in  a  morose  or  ascetic  spirit  that  he 
did  so.  He  had  not  fled  to  those  solitudes  in 
chagrin,  to  nurse  upon  the  lap  of  indolence 
regrets  over  bygone  disappointments  ;  nor  had 
he  sought  there  to  shroud  his  spirit  in  a  re- 
ligious gloom  deep  as  that  of  Engedi  and  Adul- 
1am,  which  may  have  been  among  his  haunts. 
His  whole  appearance  and  bearing,  words  and 
actions,  when  at  last  he  stood  forth  before  the 
people,  satisfy  us  that  there  was  little  in  him 
of  the  mystic,  the  misanthrope,  or  the  monk. 
Though  dwelling  apart  from  others,  avoiding 


The  Foeeetjnneb.  135 

observation,  and  shunning  promiscuous  inter- 
course, he  was  not  wasting  those  years  in  idle- 
ness, heedless  of  the  task  for  the  performance 
of  which  the  life  he  led  was  intended,  as  we 
presume  he  must  have  been  informed  by  his 
parents,  to  prepare  him  to  execute.  Through 
the  loop-holes  of  retreat  we  can  well  imagine 
the  Baptist  as  busily  scanning  the  state  of  that 
community  upon  which  he  was  to  act.  When 
he  stepped  forth  from  his  retirement,  and  men 
of  all  kinds  and  classes  gathered  round  him,  he 
did  not  need  any  one  to  tell  him  who  the  Pha- 
risees, or  the  Sadducees,  or  the  publicans  were, 
or  what  were  their  peculiar  and  distinctive 
faults.  He  appears  from  the  first  to  have  been 
well  informed  as  to  the  state  of  things  outside 
the  desert.  It  may,  in  truth,  in  no  small 
measure  have  served  to  fit  him  for  his  pecuhar 
work  that — removed  from  all  the  influences 
which  must  have  served,  had  he  lived  among 
them,  to  blunt  his  sense  of  surrounding  evils, 
and  to  mould  his  character  and  habits  accord- 
ing to  the  prevailing  forms  and  fashions  of 
Jewish  life — he  was  carried  by  the  Spirit  into 
the  desert  to  be  trained  and  educated  there, 
thence,  as  from  a  watch-tower,  to  look  dowr 
upon  those  strange  sights   which   his  countr;y 


136  The  Foreeunner. 

was  presenting,  undistractedly  to  watcli,  [)ro- 
foundly  to  muse  and  meditate,  the  fervor  of 
a  true  prophet  of  the  Lord  kindhng  and  glow- 
ing into  an  intenser  fire  of  holy  zeal ;  till  at 
last,  when  the  hour  for  action  came,  he  launched 
forth  upon  his  brief  earthly  work,  with  a  swift 
impetuosity  hke  the  rush  of  those  short-hved 
cataracts,  yet  with  a  firmness  of  unbending 
will  and  purpose,  like  the  stability  of  those 
rocky  heights  among  which  for  thirty  years 
he  had  been  living. 

But  what  had  those  thirty  years  in  the  cur- 
rent of  Jewish  history  presented?  At  their 
beginning  those  intestine  wars  which  previous- 
ly had  somewhat  weakened  the  Roman  power, 
had  closed  in  the  peaceful  establishment  of  the 
Empire  under  Augustus  Caesar.  The  dangers 
to  Jewish  liberty  grew  all  the  greater,  and  the 
impatience  of  the  people  under  the  Roman 
yoke  became  the  more  intense  ;  the  extreme 
patriot  party,  who  were  in  favor  with  the  peo- 
ple generally,  became  fanatic  in  their  zeal. 
After  the  death  of  Herod  the  Great,  while  yet 
it  remained  uncertain  whether  Augustus  would 
recognize  the  accession  of  Archelaus  to  the 
throne,  an  insurrection  broke  out  in  Jerusalem, 
which  was   only  quelled  by  the  slaughter  of 


The  Foreeunner.  137 

fchree  thousand  of  the  insurgents,  and  by  the  ill- 
omened  stoppage  of  the  great  Passover  festival. 
Augustus,  unwilhng  to  lay  any  heavier  yoke 
on  those  who  were  already  fretting  beneath 
the  one  they  bore,  confirmed  the  will  of  Herod 
by  which  he  divided  his  kingdom  among  his 
«ons,  suffered  the  Jews  still  to  have  nominally 
a  government  of  their  own,  and  recognized 
Archelaus  as  king  over  Judea  and  Samaria. 
His  reign  was  a  short  and  troubled  one,  and 
at  its  close  Judea  and  Samaria  were  attached 
to  Syria,  made  part  of  a  Roman  province,  and 
had  procurators  or  governors  from  Rome  set 
over  them,  of  whom  the  sixth  in  order  was 
Pontius  Pilate,  who  entered  upon  his  ofiice 
about  the  very  time  when  the  Baptist  began 
his  ministry.  The  lingering  shadows  of  royal- 
ty and  independence  were  thus  removed.  Not 
content  with  removing  them,  the  usurper  in- 
termeddled with  the  ecclesiastical  as  well  as 
the  civU  government  of  Judea.  In  the  Mosaic 
Institute,  the  High  Priest,  the  most  important 
public  functionary  of  the  Jews,  attained  his 
office  hereditarily,  and  held  it  for  life.  The 
Emperor  now  claimed  and  exercised  the  right 
of  investiture,  and  appointed  and  deposed  as 
he   pleased.     During  the  period  between  the 


138  The  Foreeunner. 

death  of  Herod  and  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem, we  read  of  twenty-eight  High  Priests 
holding  the  office  in  succession,  only  one  of 
whom  retained  it  till  his  death.  This  depen- 
dence on  Rome,  not  only  for  the  appointment 
but  for  continuance  in  it,  necessarily  generated 
great  servility  on  the  part  of  aspirants  to  the 
office,  and  great  abuses  in  the  manner  in  which 
its  duties  were  discharged.  A  supple,  sagacious, 
venal  man,  like  Annas,  though  not  able  to  estab- 
lish himself  permanently  in  the  chair,  was  able 
to  secure  it  in  turn  for  five  of  his  sous,  for  his 
son-in-law  Caiaphas,  with  whom  he  was  associ- 
ated at  the  time  of  the  crucifixion,  and  after- 
wards for  his  grandson.  Such  a  state  of  things 
among  the  governing  authorities  fomented  the 
popular  animosity  to  the  foreign  rule.  The 
whole  country  was  in  a  ferment.  Popular 
outbreaks  were  constantly  occurring.  The 
public  mind  was  in  such  an  inflammable  con- 
dition that  any  adventurer  daring  enough,  and 
strong  enough  to  raise  the  standard  of  revolt, 
was  followed  by  multitudes.  Among  these 
insurrectionary  chiefs,  some  of  whom  were  of 
the  lowest  condition  and  the  most  worthless 
character,  Judas  of  Galilee  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  open  proclamation  of  the  principle 


The  Foeerimnek.  139 

that  it  was  not  lawful  to  pay  tribute  to  Coesar, 
and  his  political  creed  was  adopted  by  thou- 
sands who  had  not  the  courage,  as  he  had,  to 
pay  the  penalty  of  their  hves  in  acting  it  out. 
It  can  easily  be  imagined  what  a  fresh  hold 
their  faith  and  hopes  as  to  the  foretold  Messiah 
would  take  upon  the  hearts  of  a  people  thus 
galled  and  fretted  to  the  uttermost  by  political 
discontent.  The  higher  views  of  his  character 
would  naturally  be  swallowed  up  and  lost  in 
the  conception  of  him  as  the  great  deliverer 
who  was  to  break  those  hated  bonds  which 
bound  them,  restore  the  old  Theocracy,  and 
make  Jerusalem,  not  Rome,  the  seat  and  cen- 
tre of  a  universal  monarchy. 

Such  was  the  state  of  public  affairs  and  of 
the  public  feeling  when  a  voice  loud  and 
thrilling  like  the  voice  of  a  trumpet,  issues 
from  the  desert,  saying,  "  Repent  ye,  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  Crowds  come 
forth  to  listen  ;  they  look  at  the  strange  man, 
true  son  of  the  desert,  from  whose  lips  this 
voice  Cometh.  He  has  all  the  aspect,  he  wears 
the  dress,  of  one  of  their  old  prophets.  They 
ask  about  him  ;  he  is  of  the  priestly  order. 
Some  old  men  begin  now  to  remember  aboul 
his  father  in  the  Temple,  and  the  strange  "  say* 


140  The  FoBEEuiirNEB. 

ings  that  were  noised  abroad  through  all  the 
hill  country  of  Judea "  soon  after  his  birth. 
They  listen  to  his  words  ;  it  is  true  he  does 
not  directly  claim  divine  authority ;  the  old 
prophetic  formula,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,"  he 
does  not  employ  ;  he  pomts  to  no  sign,  he 
works  no  miracle ;  he  trusts  to  the  simple 
power  of  the  summons  he  makes,  the  prophecy 
be  utters  ;  yet  there  is  something  in  the  very 
manner  of  his  utterance  so  prophet-like,  that 
a  prophet  they  cannot  help  believing  him  to 
be.  There  is  nothing  particularly  ingratiating 
in  his  call  to  repent,  but  the  announcement 
that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  the  door,  and 
that  they  must  all  at  once  arise  and  prepare  for 
it,  meets  the  deepest,  warmest,  wishes  of  their 
hearts.  It  is  at  hand  at  last,  this  strange  man 
iays — the  kingdom  for  which  they  have  so 
tong  been  waiting  ;  and  shall  they  not  go  forth 
10  welcome  its  approach,  and  rejoice  in  its  tri- 
•imphs  ?  The  spell  of  the  Baptist's  preaching, 
/-n  whatever  it  lay,  was  one  that  operated  with 
9.  speed  and  a  power,  and  to  an  extent  of  which 
we  have  the  parallel  only  in  times  of  the  great- 
est excitement,  like  those  of  the  Crusades,  or 
of  the  Reformation.  "  Then  went  out  to  him," 
we  are  told,  "  aU  Judea,  and  they  of  Jerusa- 


The  Forerunner.  141 

lem,  and  all  the  region  round  about  Jordan, 
and  were  baptized  of  him  in  Jordan,  confessing 
their  sins."  It  would  seem  as  if  with  one  con- 
sent the  entire  population  of  the  southern  part 
of  Palestine  had  gathered  around  the  Baptist, 
and  for  the  time  were  pliant  in  his  hands.  It 
may  have  facilitated  their  assemblage,  if,  as  has 
been  conjectured,  it  was  a  Sabbatic  year  when 
John  began  his  work,  and  the  people,  set  free 
from  their  ordinary  labors,  were  ready  to  fol- 
low him,  as  he  led  them  to  the  banks  of  the 
Jordan  to  be  baptized. 

This  baptism  in  the  river  was  so  marked  a 
feature  in  the  ministry  of  John,  that  it  gave 
him  his  distinctive  title,  Tlie  Baptist.  It  was  a 
new  and  peculiar  rite  ;  of  Divine  appointment, 
as  appears  not  only  froni  the  question  which 
our  Lord  put  to  the  Jewish  rulers,  "  The  bap- 
tism of  John,  was  it  from  heaven,  or  of  men  ?  " 
but  also  from  the  declaration  of  John  himself, 
"  He  that  sent  me  to  baptize  with  water."  It 
may  have  been  suggested  by,  as  it  was  in  some 
respects  similar  to,  the  various  ablutions  or 
washings  with  water  prescribed  in  the  Mosaic 
ritual  ;  yet  from  all  of  these  baptisms,  if  bap- 
tisms they  could  be  called,  it  differed  in  many 
respects.     They   were  all  intended  simply   as 


142  The  Fokerunneb. 

instruments  of  purification  from  ceremonial  de- 
filement ;  it  had  another  character  and  object. 
With  a  few  exceptional  cases,  they  were  all 
performed  by  the  person's  own  hands,  who 
went  through  the  process  of  purification  ;  it 
was  performed  by  another,  by  the  hands  of 
John  himself,  or  some  of  his  disciples.  They 
were  repeated  as  often  as  the  defilement  was 
renewed ;  it  was  administered  only  once. 
There  was  indeed  one  Jewish  custom  which,  if 
then  in  use,  presents  a  clear  analogy  to  the 
baptism  of  John.  When  proselytes  from  hea- 
thenism were  admitted  into  the  pale  of  the 
Jewish  commonwealth,  after  circumcision  they 
were  baptized.  "They  bring  the  proselyte," 
says  an  old  Jewish  authority,*  "to  baptism, 
and  being  placed  in  the  water,  they  again  in- 
struct him  in  some  weightier  and  in  some 
lighter  commands  of  the  law,  which  being 
heard,  he  plunges  himself  and  comes  up,  and 
behold  he  is  an  Israelite  in  all  things."  It 
would  look  as  if  the  baptism  of  John  was  bor- 
rowed from  this  proselyte  baptism  of  the  Jews  ; 
but  though  it  were,  it  will  at  once  appear  tc 
3^ou   that  the  former  rite  had  marked    pecu- 

.  m 

*  Maiinouides. 


The  Fokeeunner.  143 

liarities  of  its  own.  And  as  it  stood  thus  dis- 
tinguished from  all  Jewish,  so  also  did  it  stand 
distinguished  from  the  Christian  rite  ordained 
by  our  Lord  himself,  which  involved  a  fuller 
faith,  symbolized  a  higher  privilege,  and  was 
always  administered  in  the  name  of  Christ. 
The  one  rite  might  be  regarded  indeed  as  run- 
ning into  and  being  superseded  by  the  other, 
but  of  the  great  difference  between  them  we 
have  proof  in  the  fact  that  those  who  had  re- 
ceived the  baptism  of  John  were  nevertheless 
re-baptized  on  their  admission  into  the  Chris- 
tian Church.*  John's  baptism,  like  every- 
thing about  his  ministry,  was  unperfect,  pre- 
paratory, temporary,  and  transient,  involving 
simply  a  confession  of  unworthiness,  and  a 
faith  in  one  to  come,  through  whom  the  re- 
mission of  sins  was  to  be  conveyed. 

The  people  who  flocked  around  John  readily 
submitted  to  his  baptism,  whether  regarding  it 
as  altogether  new,  or  the  modified  form  of  some 
of  their  own  old  observances.  The  accompani- 
ment of  his  teaching  with  the  administration  ot 
such  an  ordinance  may  have  helped  to  recon- 
cile the  Pharisees,  who  were  such  lovers  of  the 

*  See  Acts  xix. 


144  The  Forerunneb. 

ritualistic,  to  a  preaching  which  had  Uttle  in  it- 
self to  recommend  it  to  them,  as  the  absence 
on  the  other  hand  of  all  doctrinal  instruction, 
all  references  to  the  unseen  world,  to  angels 
and  spirits,  and  the  resurrection,  may  have 
helped  to  conciliate  the  prejudices  of  the  Sad- 
ducees.  At  any  rate,  we  learn  that,  borne 
along  with  the  flowing  tide,  Pharisees  and  Sad- 
ducees  did  actually  present  themselves  before 
John  to  claim  baptism  at  his  hands.  His  quick, 
keen,  spiritual  insight  at  once  detected  the 
veiled  deceit  that  lay  in  their  doing  so,  and  in 
the  very  spirit  which  his  great  Master  after- 
wards displayed,  he  proceeded  to  denounce 
their  hypocrisy,  giving  them  indeed  the  very 
title  which  Jesus  bestowed  on  them.  John's 
whole  ministry,  his  teaching  and  baptizing,  if 
it  meant  anything,  meant  this,  that  without  an 
inward  spiritual  change,  without  penitence, 
without  reformation,  no  Israelite  was  prepared 
to  enter  into  that  kingdom  whose  advent  he 
announced.  His  preaching  was  the  preaching 
of  repentance,  his  baptism  the  baptism  of  re- 
pentance ;  the  one  great  lesson  the  whole  in- 
volved, was  that  all  Israel  had  become  spirit- 
ually unfit  for  welcoming  the  Messiah,  and 
sharing  the  blessings  of  his  reign.     But  here 


The  Fobeeunnee.  145 

were  some,  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  who 
now  stood  before  him,  of  whom  he  knew,  that 
so  far  from  theh  entertaining  the  least  idea 
that  they  required  to  go  tlu^ough  any  such 
process,  regarded  themselves  as  pre-eminently 
the  very  ones  to  whom,  from  their  position  in 
Israel,  this  kingdom  was  at  once  to  bring  its 
blessings.  Penetrating  their  secret  thoughts, 
the  Baptist  said  to  them,  "Think  not  to  say 
within  yourselves.  We  have  Abraham  to  our 
father,"  and  therefore  are,  simply  as  his  de- 
scendants, entitled  to  all  the  benefits  of  that 
kingdom  which  is  to  be  set  up  in  Judca  ;  "  I 
say  unto  you,  that  God  is  able  of  these  stones 
to  raise  up  children  unto  Abraham ; " — a  dim, 
yet  not  uncertain  pre-intimation  of  the  spirit- 
ual character  and  wide  extension  of  the  new 
kingdom  of  God  ;  the  possibility  even  of  the 
outcast  and  down-trodden  Gentile  being  ad- 
mitted into  it. 

John's  bold  and  honest  treatment  of  the 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees  only  made  him  look 
the  more  prophet-like  in  the  eyes  of  the  com- 
mon people.  It  encouraged  them  to  ask,  What 
shall  we  do  then  ?  In  a  form  of  precept  like 
to  that  which  Christ  frequently  employed, 
John  said  to  them,  "  He  that  hath  two  coats, 


146  The  Foeerunner. 

let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath  none.  He 
that  hath  meat,  let  him  do  likewise."  There 
is  no  better  sign  morally  of  a  community  than 
when  such  kindly  links  of  brotherly  sympathy 
so  bind  together  all  classes,  as  that  those  who 
have  are  ever  ready  to  help  those  who  want ; 
as,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  clearer  proof 
of  a  community  morally  disorganized  than  the 
absence  of  this  benevolent  disposition.  Judea 
was  at  this  time,  both  as  to  its  religious  and 
political  condition,  thoroughly  disorganized, 
and  in  inculcating  in  this  direct  and  emphatic 
way,  the  great  duty  of  a  universal  charity, 
John  was  at  once  laying  bare  one  of  the  sorest 
of  existing  evils,  and  pointing  to  the  method  of 
its  cure. 

Then  came  to  him  the  Publicans  also,  those 
Jews  who  for  gain's  sake  had  farmed  the  taxes 
imposed  by  the  Romans  ;  a  class  odious  and 
despised,  looked  upon  by  their  countrymen 
generally  as  traitors,  who,  by  extortion,  drew 
large  profits  out  of  the  national  degradation. 
They,  too,  get  the  answer  exactly  suited  to 
them  :  "  Exact  no  more  than  what  is  appointed 
to  you."  Then  came  to  him  soldiers,  Jews  we 
may  believe  who  had  enlisted  under  the  Ro- 
man standard,  and  who,  not  satisfied  with  the 


The  Fokeeunner.  147 

soldier's  common  pay,  abused  their  power  as 
the  mihtary  pohce  of  the  country,  and  by  force, 
or  threat  of  accusation  before  the  higher  au- 
thorities, sought  to  improve  their  condition. 
They,  too,  get  the  answer  suited  to  their  case*. 
" Do  violence  to  no  man:  neither  accuse  any 
falsely,  and  be  content  with  your  wages." 
These  are  but  a  few  stray  specimens  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  Baptist  dealt  with  those 
who  came  to  him  :  one  quite  new,  yet  so  much 
needed.  What  power  must  have  been  exerted 
over  a  people  so  long  accustomed  to  the  in- 
culcation of  a  mere  ceremonial  pietism,  by  this 
thoroughly  intrepid,  downright,  plain,  practical, 
unaccommodating  and  uncompromising  kind 
of  teaching !  The  great  secret  of  its  success 
lay  here,  that  unsupported  by  any  confirming 
signs  from  heaven, — in  a  certain  sense  not 
needing  them, — he  inculcated  the  duties  of 
justice,  truthfulness,  forbearance,  charity,  by  a 
direct  appeal  to  the  simple,  naked  sense  of 
right  and  wrong  that  dwells  in  every  human 
bosom.  And  the  world  has  seldom  seen  a 
more  striking  proof  of  the  power  of  conscience, 
a.nd  of  the  response  which,  when  taken  sud- 
denly, and  before  it  has  time  to  get  warped 
and  biased,  conscience  will  give  to  all  direct, 


148  The  Fokerunnek. 

sincere,  and  vigorous  addresses  to  it,  than 
when  those  multitudes  from  Judea  and  Jeru- 
salem, and  all  the  land,  gathered  round  the 
Baptist  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan. 

What  an  animating  spectacle  must  these 
banks  have  then  exhibited  ;  a  spectacle  which 
has  ever  since  been  annually  renewed  by  the 
resort  of  thousands  of  pilgrims  thither.  Our 
last  and  best  describer  of  Palestine*  brings  it 
thus  before  our  eyes  :  "  No  common  spring  or 
tank  would  meet  the  necessities  of  the  multi- 
tudes. The  Jordan  now  seemed  to  have  met 
with  its  fit  purpose.  It  was  the  one  river  of 
Palestine  sacred  in  its  recollections,  abundant 
in  its  waters  ;  and  yet  at  the  same  time  the 
river  not  of  cities  but  of  the  wilderness,  the 
scene  of  the  preaching  of  those  who  dwelt  not 
in  kings'  palaces,  nor  wore  soft  clothing.  On 
the  banks  of  the  rushing  stream  the  multitudes 
gathered  ; — the  priests  and  scribes  from  Jeru- 
salem, down  the  pass  of  Adummim  ;  the  pub- 
licans from  Jericho  on  "the  south,  and  the  Lake 
of  Gennesareth  on  the  north  ;  the  soldiers  on 
their  way  from  Damascus  to  Petra,  through 
the  Ghor,  in  the  war  with  the  Arab  chief  Ha- 

*  Stanley. 


The  Foeekukner.  149 

reth ;  the  peasants  from  Galilee,  with  One 
from  Nazareth,  through  the  opening  of  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon.  The  tall  reeds  or  canes  in 
the  jungle  waved,  shaken  by  the  wind  ;  the 
pebbles  of  the  bare  clay  hills  lay  around,  to 
which  the  Baptist  pointed  as  capable  of  being 
transformed  into  the  children  of  Abraham  ;  at 
their  feet  rushed  the  refreshing  stream  of  the 
never-faihng  river." 

This  description,  indeed,  apphes  to  a  period 
in  the  narrative  a  little  further  on  than  the  one 
which  is  now  immediately  before  us.  The 
"One  from  Nazareth"  may  have  left  his  vil- 
lage home,  and  been  already  on  the  way,  but 
as  yet  he  was  buried  in  obscurity,  deep  hidden 
among  the  people.  All  the  people  were  mu- 
sing in  their  hearts  whether  John  were  not 
himself  the  Christ.  He  knew  what  was  in 
their  hearts  ;  he  knew  how  ready  they  were 
to  hail  him  as  their  promised  deliverer.  No 
man  of  his  degree  has  ever  had  a  fairer  oppor- 
tunity of  lifting  himself  to  high  repute  upon 
the  shoulders  of  an  acclaiming  multitude.  Did 
the  tempting  thought  for  a  moment  flit  across 
his  mind  that  he  should  seize  upon  the  occa- 
sion so  presented  ?  If  it  did,  he  was  in  haste 
to  expel  the  intruder,  and  prevent  the  multi- 


150  The  Fokerunner. 

tude  by  at  once  proclaiming  that  he  was  not 
the  great  prophet  they  were  ready  to  beheve 
he  was ;  that  another  was  at  hand  much 
greater  than  he,  to  whom  he  was  not  worthy  to 
discharge  the  lowest  and  most  menial  office  of  a 
slave,  the  carrying  of  his  sandal,  the  unloosing 
of  his  shoe-latchet.  He,  John,  baptized  with 
water  unto  repentance,  an  incomplete  and  alto- 
gether preparatory  affair,  but  the  greater  than 
he  would  baptize  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
fire. 

Such  was  the  prompt  and  decisive  manner 
in  which  he  disowned  all  high  pretensions. 
And  when,  shortly  afterwards,  posterior  to  our 
Lord's  baptism,  of  which  they  may  have  heard 
nothing,  a  deputation  from  Jerusalem  came 
down  to  ask  him,  Who  art  thou  ?  he  met  the 
question  with  the  emphatic  negative,  I  am  not 
the  Christ.  Art  thou  Elias  then?  they  said. 
John  knew  that  the  men  who  put  this  query 
to  him  were  caring  only  about  his  person,  and 
careless  about  his  office, — in  the  true  spirit  of 
all  religious  formalists,  wanting  so  much  to 
know  who  the  teacher  was,  and  but  little  heed- 
ing what  his  teaching  meant ;  he  knew  that 
their  idea  was  that  the  heavens  were  to  give 
back  Elijah  to  the  earth,  and  that  he  was  t« 


The  Fokekuxnek.  151 

appear  in  person  to  announce   and  anoint  the 
Messiah,  and  that  many  of  them  b^Ueved  that 
besides  Ehas  another  of  the  old  prophets  was 
to  arise  from  the  dead,  to  dignify  by  his  pres- 
ence the  great  era  of  the  Messiah's  inaugura- 
tion.    Answering  their  questions  according  to 
the  meaning  of  the  questioners  when  they  said, 
Art  thou  Ehas  ?  he  said,  I  am  not  ;  when  they 
asked  him,  Art  thou  that  prophet  ?  he  answered, 
No.     And   when   still  further   they   inquired, 
Who  art  thou  then,  that  we  may  give  an  an- 
swer to  them  that  sent  us?  he  said,  that  he 
was  but  a  voice  and  nothing  more,  "  the  voice 
of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Make  straight 
the  way   of  the   Lord,    as   said   the   prophet 
Esaias."     Pressing  him  still  further  by  the  in- 
terrogation, why  it  was  that  he  baptized  if  he 
were  neither  Christ,  nor  Elias,  nor  that  prophet ; 
he  speaks  again  of  his  own  baptism  as    if  it 
were  too  insignificant  a  matter  for  any  question 
about  his  right  to  administer  it  being  raised  or 
answered,  and  of  the  greater  than  he  already 
revealed  to  him  by  the  sign  from  heaven  :  "I 
baptize   with  water,  but   there    standeth    one 
among  you  whom  ye  know  not.     He  it  is  who 
coming  after  me  is  preferred  before  me,  whose 
shoe-latchet  I  am  not  worthy  to  unloose." 


152  The  Fokeeunner. 

It  is  this  prompt  acknowledgment  of  his  own 
infinite  inferiority  to  Christ,  his  thorough  ap- 
preciation of  the  relative  position  in  which  he 
stood  to  Jesus,  the  readiness  with  which  he 
undertook  the  honorable  but  humble  task  of 
being  but  his  herald,  the  unimpeachable  fidelity 
and  unfaltering  steadiness  with  which  he  ful- 
filled the  special  course  marked  out  for  him  by 
God,  and  above  all  the  entire  and  apparently 
unconscious  self-abnegation  which  in  doing  so 
he  displayed,  that  shine  forth  as  the  prominent 
features  in  the  personal  character  of  the  Bap- 
tist. 

To  these,  particularly  to  the  last,  we  shall 
have  occasion  hereafter  to  allude.  Meanwhile, 
let  us  dwell  a  moment  on  the  place  and  office 
which  the  ministry  of  John  occupied  midway 
between  the  old  and  the  new  economy.  "  The 
law  and  the  prophets  were  until  John."  In 
him  and  with  him  they  expired.  He  was  a 
prophet,  the  only  one  among  them  all  whose 
coming  and  whose  office  were  themselves  of 
old  the  subject  of  prophecy,  honored  above 
them  all  by  the  nearness  of  his  standing  to  Je- 
sus, by  his  being  the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom, 
to  whom  it  was  given  to  hear  the  Bridegroom's 
living  voice.     But  he  was  more  than  a  prophet. 


The  Fobebunnek.  153 

Of  the  greatest  of  his  predecessors,  of  Moses, 
of  EHjah,  of  Daniel,  it  was  true  that  they  filled 
but  a  hmited  space  m  the  great  dispensation 
with  which  they  were  connected  ;  their  days 
but   an   handbreadth   in   the   broad   cycle   of 
events  with  which  their  Uves  and  labors  were 
wrapped  up,  the  individuality  of  each,  if  not 
lost  among,  yet  linked  with  that  of  a  multitude 
of  compeers.     But  John  presents  himself  alone. 
The  prophet  of  the  desert,  the  forerunner  of 
the  Lord,  appears  without  a  coadjutor,  a  whole 
distinct   economy    in    himself.     To    announce 
Christ's  advent,  to  break  up  the  way   before 
him,  to  make  ready  a  people  prepared  for  the 
Lord,  this  was  the  specific  object  of  that  econ- 
omy which  began  and  ended  in  John's  ministry. 
The  kind,  and  amount  of  the  service  which 
the  Baptist  thus  rendered,  as  well  as  the  need 
of  it,  it  is  difiicult  for  us  now  thoroughly  to 
understand  and  appreciate.     In  what  respect 
Christ  would  have  been  placed  at  a  disadvan- 
tage had  not  John  preceded  him  ;  in  what  res- 
pects the  Baptist  did  open  up  the  way  before 
the  Lord  ;   in   what  respects  John's  ministry 
told  upon  the  condition  of  the  Jewish  people, 
morally  and  spiritually,  so  as  to  make  it  differ- 
ent from  what  it  otherwise  would  have  been — 


154  The  Foeekunner. 

so  as  to  make  the  soil  all  the  better  prepared 
to  receive  the  seed  which  the  hand  of  the 
Diviue  sower  scattered — it  is  not  very  easy  for 
us  to  estimate.  One  thing  is  clear  enough, 
that  it  was  John's  hand  which  struck  the  first 
bold  stroke  at  the  root  of  the  strong  national 
prejudice  which  narrowed  and  carnalized  the 
expected  kingdom  of  their  Messiah.  It  is 
quite  possible,  that,  as  to  the  true  nature  and 
extent  of  the  coming  kingdom,  John  may  have 
been  as  much  in  the  dark  as  the  twelve  apos- 
tles were  till  the  day  of  Pentecost.  One  thing, 
however,  was  revealed  to  him  in  clearest  light, 
and  it  was  upon  his  knowledge  of  this  that  he 
spoke  with  such  authority  and  power,  that 
whatever  the  future  kingdom  was  to  be,  it 
should  be  one  in  which  force  and  fraud,  and 
selfishness  and  insincerity,  and  all  sham  piety, 
were  to  be  denied  a  place  ;  for  which  those 
would  stand  best  prepared  who  were  readiest 
to  confess  and  give  up  their  sins,  and  to  act 
justly  and  benevolently  towards  their  fellow- 
men,  humbly  and  sincerely  towards  their  God. 
You  have  but  the  rudiments,  indeed,  of  the 
true  doctrine  of  repentance  in  the  teaching  of 
the  Baptist — the  Christian  doctrine  but  in 
germ  j   but  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  it  the 


The  Foeerunkeb.  155 

same  great  lesson  broached  as  to  the  mner 
and  sphitual  quahfications  requned  of  all  the 
members  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  which  was 
afterwards,  with  so  much  greater  depth  and 
fullness,  unfolded  privately  to  Nicodemus  at 
the  very  beginnmg  of  our  Lord's  ministry  in 
Judea,  when  he  said  to  him  :  "  Except  a  man 
be  born  again,  he  cannot  see,  he  cannot  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  God  ;"  and  publicly  to 
the  multitudes  on  the  hill-side  of  Galilee,  when 
the  Lord  said  to  them  ;  "  Blessed  are  the  poor 
in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

It  would  be  quite  wrong,  it  would  indicate 
an  ignorance  of  the  peculiar  service  which  the 
Baptist  was  called  upon  to  render,  were  we  to 
imagine  that  there  must  be  a  preparatory  pro- 
cess of  repentance  and  reformation  gone 
through  by  each  of  us  before  we  believe  in 
Jesus,  and  by  faith  enter  the  kingdom.  Our 
position  is  so  different  fi'om  that  occupied  by 
the  multitude  to  whom  John  preached,  that 
what  was  most  suitable  for  them  is  not  so 
suitable  for  us. 

And  yet  not  without  some  broad  and  gen- 
eral lessons  for  the  Church,  at  all  times  and  in 
all  ages,  was  it  ordered  so  that  the  gentle 
preacher  of  peace  should  be  preceded  by  the 


156  The  Fokekunner. 

stern  preacher  of  repentance  ;  that  John 
should  be  seen  in  the  desert  in  advance  of 
•Fesus — in  his  appearance,  his  haunts,  his  hab- 
its, his  words,  his  ordinance,  proclaiming,  and 
symbolizing  the  duty  and  disciphne  of  peni- 
tence. It  was  only  thus,  by  the  ministry  of 
the  one  running  into  the  ministry  of  the  other, 
that  the  Christian  life,  in  its  acts  of  penitence, 
as  weU  as  in  its  acts  of  faith  and  love,  could 
stand  before  us  in  vivid  relief,  embodied  in  a 
full-orbed  and  personal  portraiture.  Jesus  had 
no  sin  of  his  own  to  mourn  over,  no  evil  dis- 
positions to  subdue,  no  evil  habits  to  relin- 
quish. In  the  person,  character,  and  life  of 
Jesus,  the  great  and  needful  duty  of  mortify- 
ing the  body  of  sin  and  death  could  receive  no 
visible  illustration.  He  could  supply  to  us  no 
model  or  exemplar  here.  Was  it  not  then 
wisely  ordered  that  moving  before,  and  for  a 
time  beside  him,  there  should  be  seen  that 
severer  figure  of  the  Baptist,  as  if  to  tell  us 
that  the  proud  spirit  that  is  in  us  must  be 
bowed,  and  the  mountain-heights  of  pride  in 
us  be  laid  low,  and  the  crooked  things  be 
made  straight,  and  the  rough  places  plain,  to 
make  way  for  the  coming  in  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace,  and  the  setting  up  of  his  kingdom  in 


The  Foeekunner.  157 

our  hearts  ;  that  we  must  go  with  the  Baptist 
into  the  soUtudes  of  the  desert,  as  well  as  with 
the  Saviour  into  the  happy  homes  and  villages 
of  Galilee  ?  Would  you  see,  in  its  full,  fin- 
ished, and  perfect  form,  the  character  and 
course  of  conduct,  which,  as  followers  of  the 
Crucified,  we  are  to  aim  at  and  to  realize,  go 
study  it  in  the  hfe  of  Jesus.  But  would  you 
see  it  in  its  formation  as  well  as  in  its  finish,  go 
study  it  in  the  life  of  the  Baptist ;  put  the  two 
together,  John  and  Jesus,  and  the  portraiture 
is  complete. 


VIII. 

THE    BAPTISM.* 

WE  have  no  definite  information  as  to  the 
date  of  the  commencement  of  John's 
ministry,  or  his  own  age  at  that  time.  As  we 
know,  however,  that  he  was  six  months  older 
than  Jesus,  as  we  are  told  that  Jesus  was 
about  thirty  years  of  age  when  he  began  his 
public  ministry,  and  as  that  was  the  age  fixed 
in  the  Jewish  law  for  the  priests  entering  on 
the  duties  of  their  office,  it  seems  reasonable 
to  conclude  that  the  ministry  of  John  had  al- 
ready lasted  for  six  months  when  Jesus  pre- 
sented himself  before  the  Baptist  on  the  banks 
of  the  Jordan.  This  would  allow  full  thne  for 
intelhgence  of  a  movement  which  so  rapidly 
pervaded  the  entire  population  of  the  southern 
districts   of  the  country,  penetrating   Galilee, 

*  Matt.  iii.  13-17  ;  Mark  i.  9-11 ;  Luke  iii.  21-23  ;  John  i.  30-33. 


The  Baptism.  159 

and  reaching  even  to  Nazareth.  Moved  by 
this  intelligence,  other  Galileans  of  that  district 
as  well  as  Jesus  may  have  followed  the  wake 
of  the  multitude,  and  directed  their  steps  to  the 
place  where  John  was  baptizing.  In  these 
circumstances  Christ's  departure  from  his  home 
may  not  have  created  the  surprise  which  it 
otherwise  would  have  done.  When  Mary  saw 
her  son,  who  had  hitherto  so  quietly  and  ex- 
clusively devoted  himself  to  their  discharge, 
throw  up  all  his  household  duties  and  depart : 
when  she  learned  whither  it  was  that  his  foot- 
steps were  tending,  and  gathered,  as  she  may 
have  done,  from  the  tidings  which  were  then 
afloat,  that  it  was  none  other  than  the  son  of 
her  relative  Ehzabeth  who  was  shaking  the 
entire  community  of  the  south  by  his  summons 
to  repent,  and  his  proclamation  of  the  nearness 
of  the  kingdom,  she  could  scarcely  have  let 
Jesus  go,  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  so 
parted  from  her,  without  following  him  with 
many  wistfid,  wondering  anxieties  and  hopes. 
But  she  did  not  know  that  he  now  left  that 
home  in  Nazareth  never  but  for  a  few  days  to 
return  to  it.  Had  she  known  it,  could  she  have 
let  him  go  alone  ?  It  was  alone,  however,  and 
externally   undistinguished  among  the  crowd, 


160  The  Baptism. 

that  Jesus  stood  before  John,  and  craved  bap- 
tism at  his  hands.  He  did  this  in  the  simplest, 
least  ostentatious  way,  allowing  the  great  mass 
of  the  baptisms  to  be  over,  mingling  with  the 
people  and  offering  himself  as  one  of  the  last 
to  whom  the  rite  was  to  be  administered.  "  It 
came  to  pass,"  Luke  tells,  that  "  when  all  the 
people  were  baptized,"  Jesus  was  baptized  also. 
But  his  baptism  did  not  go  past  as  the  otliers 
did.  So  soon  as  John's  eye  feU  upon  this  new 
candidate  for  the  ordinance,  he  saw  in  him  one 
altogether  different  in  person  and  character 
from  any  who  had  hitherto  been  baptized. 
He  felt  at  once  as  if  this  administration  of  his 
baptism  would  be  altogether  out  of  place  ;  that 
for  Jesus  to  be  baptized  by  him  would  be  to 
invert  the  relationship  in  which  he  knew  and 
felt  that  they  stood  to  one  another.  By  ear- 
nest speech  or  expressive  gesture  he  mtimated 
his  unwillingness  to  comply  with  the  request. 
The  word  which  St.  Matthew  uses  in  telling  us 
that  John  forbade  him,  is  one  indicative  of  a 
very  strenuous  refusal  on  his  part.  This  refu- 
sal he  accompanied  with  the  words:  "I  have 
need  to  be  baptized  of  thee,  and  comest  thou 
to  me  ?" 

These  words,  you  will  particularly  remark, 


The  Baptism.  161 

were  spoken  at  the  commencement  of  their  in- 
terview, before  the  baptism  of  our  Lord,  be- 
fore that  sign  from  heaven  was  given  of  which 
he  had  been  forewarned,  and  for  which  he  was 
to  wait  before  pronouncing  of  any  individual 
that  he  was  the  greater  One  who  was  to  come, 
who  was  to  baptize  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and 
with  fire.  Till  he  saw  the  Spirit  descending 
and  remaining,  John  could  not  know  certainly, 
and  had  no  warrant  authoritatively  to  say  that 
this  was  He  of  whom  he  spake.  From  the 
Baptist  saying  twice  afterwards,  "  I  knew  him 
not,"  it  has  been  imagined  that  up  to  this 
meeting  John  had  never  seen  Jesus,  had  no 
personal  acquaintance  with  his  relative  the 
son  of  Mary  ;  and  the  distance  at  which  they 
lived  from  one  another,  with  the  entire  length 
of  the  land  between  them,  the  retired  life  of 
the  one  at  Nazareth,  and  the  dwelling  of  the 
other  in  the  desert,  have  been  referred  to  as 
explaining  the  absence  of  all  acquaintance  and 
intercourse.  That  there  could  have  been  but 
little  intercourse  is  clear  ;  that  they  may  never 
have  seen  each  other  till  now  is  possible.  But 
if  so,  how  are  we  to  explain  John's  meeting 
the  proposal  of  Jesus  with  so  instant  and  ear- 
nest a  declaration,  and  saymg  to  him,  I  have 


162  The  Baptism. 

need  to  be  baptized  of  thee,  and  comest  thou 
to  me  ?  Jesus  must  either  before  these  words 
were  spoken  have  told  John  who  he  was,  and 
the  Baptist  must  have  known  from  ordinary 
sources  what  a  sinless  and  holy  life  he  had 
been  leading  for  these  thirty  years  at  Nazareth, 
or  this  knowledge  must  have  been  supernatu- 
rally  communicated  ;  for  knowledge  of  Jesus 
to  this  extent  at  least,  that  he  was  no  fit  sub- 
ject for  a  baptism  which  was  for  sinners,  was 
obviously  implied  in  this  address. 

Is  it,  however,  so  certain,  or  even'so  prob- 
able, that  John  and  Jesus  had  never  met  till 
now  ?  Zacharias  and  Elizabeth  had  to  in- 
struct their  son  as  to  his  earthly  work,  his 
heavenly  calling,  and  in  doing  so  must  have 
told  him  of  the  visit  of  Mary,  and  the  bu'th  of 
Jesus.  He  must  have  learned  from  them 
enough  to  direct  his  eye  longingly  and  expec- 
tantly to  his  Galilean  relative  as  no  other  than 
the  Messiah,  for  whose  coming  he  was  to  pre- 
pare the  people.  True,  he  retired  early  to  the 
desert,  which  was  his  place  of  ordinary  residence 
till  the  time  of  his  showing  unto  Israel,  but 
did  that  imply  that  he  never  was  at  Jerusalem, 
never  went  up  to  the  great  yearly  festivals  ? 
Jesus  was  once,  at  least,  in  Jerusalem  in  his 


The  Baptism.  163 

youth,  and  may  have  been  often  there  before 
his  thh'tieth  year.  So,  too,  may  it  have  been 
with  John,  and  if  so,  they  must  have  met  there, 
and  become  acquainted  with  one  another. 
Much,  however,  as  there  may  have  been  to 
lead  John  to  the  behef  that  Jesus  was  he  that 
was  to  come  after  him,  the  lapse  of  those  thirty 
years,  during  which  the  two  had  been  almost 
totally  separated,  and  the  absence  of  all  sign  or 
token  of  the  Messiahship  during  Christ's  se- 
cluded life  at  Nazareth,  may  have  led  him  to 
doubt.  Even  after  he  had  received  his  great 
commission  he  might  continue  in  the  same  state 
of  uncertainty,  waiting,  as  he  had  been  in- 
structed, till  the  sign  from  heaven  was  given. 
Whatever  John's  inward  surmises  or  convic- 
tions may  have  been,  he  must  have  felt  that  it 
became  him  neither  to  speak  of  them  nor  to 
act  on  them,  till  the  promised  and  visible  to- 
ken of  the  Messiahship  lighted  on  him  whom 
he  was  then  to  hold  forth  to  the  people  as  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  was  to  take  away  the  sin 
of  the  world.  Such  we  conceive  to  have  been 
the  stale  of  John's  mind  and  feelings  towards 
Jesus  when  he  presented  himself  before  him 
for  baptism.  From  previous  acquaintance  he 
may  instantly  have  recognized  him  as  the  son 


164  The  Baptism. 

of  Mary,  to  whom  his  thoughts  and  hopes  had 
for  so  many  years  been  pointing.  He  certainly 
did  at  once  recognize  him  as  his  superior,  as 
one  at  least  so  much  hoher  than  himself  that 
he  shrunk  from  baptizmg  him.  But  he  did 
not  certainly  know  him  as  the  Christ  the  Son 
of  God  ;  did  not  so  know  him  at  least  as  to  be 
entitled  to  point  him  out  as  such  to  the  people. 
When,  some  weeks  afterwards,  he  actually  did 
so,  he  was  at  pains  to  tell  those  whom  he  ad- 
dressed that  it  was  not  upon  the  ground  of  any 
previous  personal  knowledge,  or  individual 
connexion,  that  he  spake  of  him  as  he  did. 
"  I  knew  him  not,"  he  said  ;  "  but  he  that  sent 
me  to  baptize  with  water,  the  same  said  unto 
me.  Upon  whom  thou  shalt  see  the  Spirit  de- 
scending, and  remaining  on  him,  the  same  is 
he  which  baptizeth  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  And 
I  saw,  and  bear  record  that  this  is  the  Son  of 
God." 

We  now  know  more  of  Jesus  than  perhaps 
John  did  when  Christ  stood  before  him  to  be 
baptized  ;  we  know  that  he  was  the  Holy  One 
of  God,  who  had  no  sin  of  his  own  to  confess, 
no  pollution  to  wash  away  ;  and  we  too,  like 
John,  may  wonder  that  the  sinless  Son  of  God 
should  have  submitted  to  such  a  baptism  as 


The  Baptism.  165 

his,  a  baptism  accompanied  with  the  acknowl- 
edgment of  sin,  and  the  profession  of  repen- 
tance, and  which  was  the  symbol  of  the  re- 
moval of  the  polluting  stains  of  guilt.  But  our 
Lord's  words  fall  upon  our  ears  as  they  did  on 
those  of  John.  "  Suffer  it  to  be  so  now,  for 
thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfill  all  righteousness." 
Fhmly  yet  gently,  authoritatively  yet  cour- 
teously, clothing  the  command  in  the  form  of 
a  request,  he  carries  it  over  the  reluctance  and 
remonstrance  of  the  Baptist.  "  Suffer  it  to  be 
so  now,"  for  this  once,  so  long  as  the  present 
transient  earthly  relationship  between  us  sub- 
sists. Suffer  it,  "  for  so  it  becometh  us  to  ful- 
fill all  righteousness."  It  is  not  then  as  a  vio- 
lator but  as  a  fulfiller  of  the  law  that  Jesus 
comes  to  be  baptized ;  not  as  one  who  con- 
fesses to  the  want  of  such  a  perfect  righteous- 
ness as  might  be  presented  for  acceptance  to 
God,  but  as  one  prepared  to  meet  every  re- 
quirement of  his  Father,  and  to  render  to  it  an 
exact  and  complete  obedience.  Who  could 
speak  thus,  as  if  it  were  such  an  easy,  as  well 
as  such  a  becoming  thing  in  him  to  fulfill  al] 
righteousness,  but  the  only  begotten  of  the 
Father,  he  who,  in  coming  into  this  world  could 
say,  Lo !  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  0  God  ? 


166  The  Baptism. 

-^        And  here,  in  subjecting  himself  to  the  bap- 
tism of  John,  you  have  the  first  instance  of 
Christ's  acting  in  his  public  official  character  as 
the  Messiah.     He  steps  forth  at  last  from  his 
long  retirement,  his  deep  seclusion  at  Nazareth, 
to  appear  how  ?  to  do  what  ? — to  appear  as  an 
inferior  before  the  Baptist,  to  ask  a  service  at 
his  hands,  to  enroll  himself  as  one  of  his  disci- 
ples ;  for  this  was  the  primary  purpose  of  this 
ordinance.     It  was  the  initiatory  rite  by  which 
repentant  Israelites  enrolled  themselves  as  the 
hopeful   expectants   of  the  coming  kingdom  ; 
and  He,  the  head  of  that  kingdom,  stoops  to 
enroll  himself  in  this  way  among  them.     *'By 
one  spirit,"  says  the  apostle,  "  we  are  aU  bap- 
tized  into  one  body ;"    the    outward   baptism 
the  sign  or  symbol  of  our  incorporation  into 
that  one  body  the  Church.     In  the  same  way 
the  Lord  himself  enters  into  that  body,  honors 
the    ordinance   which   God  had  sent  John  to 
administer,  conforms  even  to  that  preparatory 
ftnd  temporary  economy  through  which  his  In- 
fant Church  was  called  to  pass,  putting  himself 
under  the  law,  making  himself  in  all  things  hke 
unto  his  brethren. 

Still,  however,  the  difficulty  returns  upon  us, 
as  to  what  meaning  such  a   rite   as   that   of 


The  Baptism.  167 

John's  baptism  could  have  in  the  case  of  Je- 
sus ;  sin  he  had  none  to  confess,  nor  penitence 
to  feel,  nor  reformation  to  effect,  nor  a  faith 
in  the  One  to  come  to  cherish.     Yet  his  bap- 
tism in  the  Jordan  was  not  without  meaning  ; 
nay,  its   singular  significance  reveals  itself  as 
we  contemplate  the  sinlessness  of  his  character. 
We  rightly  regard  the  baptism  of  Jesus  as  the 
first  act  of  his  pubhc  ministry  :  and  does  he 
not  present  himself  at  the  very  outset  in  that 
peculiar  character  and  office  which  he  sustains 
throughout   his   mediatorial   work,  identifying 
himself  with  his  people  as  their  representative 
and  their  head  ;  taking  on  him  their  sins,  num- 
bering himself  with  transgressors — doing  now, 
enduring  afterwards  what  it  became  them  as 
sinners  to  do,  as  sinners  to  suffer  ?     In  himself 
he  was   pure  and  undefiled,  having   no   stain 
whose    removal    this    outward   baptism   with 
water  might  symbolize  ;  but  even  as  an  Israel- 
ite   of    old,    though     personally   pure,    might 
become   ceremonially  unclean  by  simple  con- 
tact with  the  dead,  and  as   such   had   to   go 
tln-ough  the  required  ablution,  so  by  his  close 
contact   with   our  spiritually   dead  humanity, 
might  the  Son  of  Man  be  considered  as  defiled, 
and  thus  require  to  pass  through  the  waters  of 


168  The  Baptism. 

baptism  under  the  hand  of  John.  And  even 
as  the  high  priest  of  old,  though  not  a  stain 
was  on  his  body,  had  to  wash  it  all  over  with 
pure  water  before  he  put  on  those  holy  and 
beautiful  garments,  clad  with  which  he  entered 
within  the  veil  into  the  Holy  of  Holies  ;  even 
so  did  the  holy  Jesus,  whilst  here  without  the 
camp,  a  bearer  of  our  reproach,  consent  to  pass 
through  those  baptismal  waters,  as  a  step  in 
his  preparation  for  entering  into  the  true  Holy 
of  Holies,  and  putting  on  there  those  holy  and 
beautiful  garments,  the  garments  of  that  glory 
v/ith  which  his  consecrated,  exalted,  enthroned 
liumanity  is  invested. 

But  let  us  now  fix  our  eye  on  what  hap- 
pened immediately  after  the  baptism  of  Christ, 
lie  came  up  straightway  out  of  the  water. 
He  did  not  wait,  as  the  Jews  asked  the  pros- 
elyte to  do,  to  listen  to  still  further  instruction 
out  of  the  law  ; — instruction  likely  to  be  the 
more  deeply  impressed  by  the  time  and  cir- 
cumstances under  which  it  was  given.  He  did 
not  wait,  as  we  are  led,  from  the  very  expres- 
sion employed  here,  to  believe  that  many  of 
those  did  who  received  the  baptism  from  John. 
In  him  there  was  no  need  for  such  delay  or 
any   such   instruction.     The   law  of  his  God, 


The  Baptism.  169 

was  it  not  written  wholly,  deeply,  indelibly,  in 
his  heart  ?  Straightway,  therefore,  he  goes 
forth  from  under  the  Baptist's  hands.  John's 
wondering  eye  is  on  him  as  he  ascends  the 
river  banks.  There  he  throws  himself  into  the 
attitude,  engages  in  the  exercise  of  prayer,  and 
then  it  is,  as  with  uphfted  hands  he  gazes  into 
the  heavens,  that  he  sees  them  opened  above 
his  head,  the  Spirit  of  God  descending  like  a 
dove,  and  lighting  on  him,  and  a  voice  from 
heaven  saying  to  him,  "  Thou  art  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  weU  pleased." 

The  requirements  of  the  narrative,  as  given 
by  St.  Matthew,  St.  Mark,  and  St.  Luke,  do 
not  involve  us  in  the  behef  that  the  bystanders 
generally,  if  present  m  any  numbers,  saw  these 
sights  and  heard  that  voice.  Its  being  so  dis- 
tinctly specified  by  each  of  the  Evangelists  that 
it  was  He  who  saw  and  heard,  would  rather 
lead  us  to  the  inference  that  the  sight  and  the 
hearing  were  confined  to  our  Lord  alone. 
John,  indeed,  tells  us  that  he  saw  the  vision, 
and  we  may  believe  therefore  that  he  also 
heard  the  voice,  but  beyond  the  two,  who  may 
have  been  standing  apart  and  by  themselves, 
it  would  not  seem  that  the  wonders  of  this 
incident   were   at   the   time   revealed.     Other 


170  The  Baptism. 

instances  of  like  manifestations  had  this  feature 
attached  to  them,  that  were  revealed  to  those 
whose  organs  were  opened,  and  allowed  to 
take  them  in,  and  were  hidden  from  those 
aromid.  Stephen  saw  the  heavens  opened, 
and  the  Son  of  man  standing  on  the  right  hand 
of  Grod.  The  clamorous  crowd  about  him  did 
not  see  as  he  did.  Had  the  vision  burst  upon 
their  eyes,  it  would  have  awed  their  tumult- 
uous rage  to  rest.  When  Saul  was  struck 
down  on  his  way  to  Damascus,  his  companions 
saw  indeed  a  light  and  heard  some  sounds,  but 
they  neither  saw  the  person  of  the  Saviour  nor 
distinguished  the  words  he  spoke,  though,  in 
one  sense,  in  a  much  fitter  condition  to  do  so 
than  Saul  was.  It  is  said  of  the  disciples  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  that  there  appeared  unto 
them  tongues  as  of  fire  which  rested  on  the 
head  of  each  ;  it  is  not  likely  that  these  were 
seen  by  those  who  mocked. 

But  be  it  as  it  may  as  to  the  other  specta- 
tors and  auditors,  it  is  evident  that  these  su- 
pernatural appearances  gave  to  the  baptism 
of  Jesus  a  new  character  in  the  Baptist's  eyes, 
as  they  should  do  in  ours.  In  the  descending 
dove,  outward  emblem  of  the  descending 
Spirit,  he  not  only  saw  the  pre-appointed  to- 


The  Baptism.  171 

ken  that  the  greater  than  he  who  was  to  bap- 
tize with  the  Holy  Ghost  was  before  him,  but 
in  the  whole  incident  he  beheld  the  first  great 
step  in  our  Lord's  public  and  official  life  :  the 
setting  of  him  openly  apart  as  the  Lamb  for 
the  sacrifice  ;  his  consecration  to,  and  his 
qualification  for,  the  great  office  of  the  one  and 
only  High  Priest  over  the  House  of  God.  The 
Levitical  law  required  that  the  priesthood 
should  be  inaugurated  with  washing  and  an- 
ointing. Eight  days  were  occupied  (as  we  read 
in  the  8th  chapter  of  Leviticus)  in  the  various 
imposing  services  of  that  original  ceremonial, 
by  which  the  family  of  Aaron  was  for  ever  set 
apart  to  the  priestly  office.  It  was  now  on 
the  banks  of  the  Jordan  that  a  greater  than 
Aaron  was  set  apart  for  a  higher  than  earthly 
priesthood.  There  was  little  about  this  con- 
secration externally  imposing,  but  the  want 
was  well  supphed.  No  gorgeous  temple,  no 
brazen  laver,  but  in  then*  stead  the  pure 
waters  of  the  running  stream  below,  and  the 
vast  blue  vault  of  heaven  above  ;  no  holy  and 
beautiful  garments,  the  raiment  of  rich  material, 
and  fine  needlework,  but  in  their  stead  the 
spotless  robe  with  which  the  fulfiller  of  all 
righteousness  was  clad  ;  no  chrysm,  no  costly 


172    •  The  Baptism. 

sacred  oil  to  pour  upon  the  new  priest's  head, 
but  in  its  stead  the  anointing  with  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

As  Jesus  stepped  forth  after  the  baptism  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  he  stood  severed  from 
the  past,  connected  with  a  new  future  ;  Naza- 
reth, its  quiet  home,  its  happy  days,  its  peace- 
ful occupations,  lay  behind  ;  trials  and  toils, 
and  suffering  and  death,  lay  before  him.  He 
would  not  have  been  the  Son  of  man  had  he 
not  felt  the  significance  and  solemnity  of  the 
hour  ;  he  would  not  have  been  the  full  parta- 
ker of  our  human  nature  had  the  weight  of 
his  new  position,  new  duties,  new  trials,  not 
pressed  heavily  upon  his  heart.  He  turns,  in 
the  pure,  true  instinct  of  his  sinless  humanity, 
to  seek  support  and  strength  in  God,  to  throw 
himself  and  all  his  future  upon  his  Father  in 
prayer.  But  who  may  tell  us  how  he  felt,  and 
what  he  prayed  ;  what  desires,  what  hopes, 
what  solicitudes  went  up  from  the  heart,  at 
least,  if  not  from  the  lips,  of  this  extraordinary 
suppliant!  Never  before  had  the  throne  of 
the  heavenly  Grace  been  thus  approached, 
and  never  before  was  such  answer  given.  The 
prayer  ascends  direct  from  earth  to  heaven, 
and  brings  the  immediate  answer  down.     It  is 


The  Baptism.  173 

as   he  prays,  that  the  Spirit   comes,  bringing 
light,  and  strength,  and  comfort  to  the  Saviour, 
sustaining  him  under  that  consciousness  of  his 
Sonship  to  God,  which  now  fills,  expands,  ex- 
alts his  weak  humanity.     And  does  not  our 
great  Head  and  Representative  stand  before  us 
here  a  type  and  pattern  of  every  true  behever 
in  the  Lord  as  to  the  duty,  the  privilege,  the 
power  of  prayer  ?     Of  him,  and  of  hun  only 
of  the  sons  of  men,  might  it  be  said  that  he 
prayed  without  ceasing ;  that  his  Hfe  was  one 
of  constant  and  sustained  communion  with  his 
Father  ;  and  yet  you  find  him  on  all  the  great 
occasions  of  his  life  having  recourse  to  separate, 
solitary,  sometimes  to  prolonged  acts  of  devo- 
tion.    His    baptism,    his    appointment   of  the 
twelve  apostles,  his  escape  from  the  attempt  to 
make  him  a  king,  his  transfiguration,  his  agony 
in  the  garden,  his  death  upon  the  cross,  were 
all  hallowed  by  prayer.     The  first  and  the  last 
acts  of  his  ministry  were  acts  of  prayer  :  from 
the  lowest  depth,  from  the  highest  elevation  of 
that  mmistry,  he  poured  out  his  spirit  in  prayer. 
For  his  mission  on  earth,  for  all  his  heaviest 
trials,  he  prepared   himself  by  prayer.     And 
should  we  not  prepare  for  our  poor    earthly 
service,  and  fortify  ourselves  against  tempta- 


174  The  Baptism. 

tions  and  trials,  by  following  that  great  exam- 
ple? The  heavens  above  are  not  shut  up 
against  us,  the  Spirit  who  descended  like  a 
dove  has  not  taken  wings  and  flown  away  for 
ever  from  this  earth.  There  is  a  power  by 
which  these  heavens  can  still  be  penetrated, 
which  can  still  bring  down  upon  us  that  gentle 
messenger  of  rest, — the  power  that  lies  in 
simple,  humble,  earnest,  continued  believing 
prayer. 

The  Holy  Spirit  as  he  descended  upon  Jesus 
was  pleased  to  assume  the  form  and  gentle 
motion  of  a  dove  gliding  down  from  the  skies. 
He  came  not  now  as  a  rushing  mighty  wind. 
He  sat  not  on  Jesus  as  a  cloven  tongue  of  fire. 
It  was  right  that  when  he  came  to  do  the  work 
of  quick  and  strong  conviction^  necessary  in 
converting  the  souls  of  men,  to  bestow  those 
gifts  by  which  the  first  missionaries  of  the  cross 
should  be  qualified  for  prosecuting  that  work, 
the  rush  as  of  a  whirlwind  should  sweep  through 
the  room  in  which  the  disciples  were  assembled, 
and  the  cloven  tongues  of  fire  should  come 
down  and  rest  upon  their  heads.  But  the 
visitation  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Saviour  was  for 
an  altogether  different  purpose,  and  it  could 
not  be   more   fitly  represented  than   by   the 


The  Baptism.  175 

meek-eyed  dove,  the  chosen  symbol  of  gentle- 
ness and  affection.  The  eagle  with  its  whig  of 
power,  its  eye  of  fii^e,  its  beak  of  terror,  was 
the  bird  of  Jove.  The  dove  the  bird  of  Je- 
sus. To  him  the  Spirit  came  not,  as  in  deahng 
with  the  souls  of  men,  to  bring  light  out  of 
darkness,  order  out  of  confusion  ;  but  to  point 
out,  as  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  the  meek  and 
the  lowly,  the  gentle  and  the  loving  Jesus. 

But  was  no  ulterior  purpose  served  by  the 
descent  of  the  Spirit  on  this  occasion?  We 
touch  a  mystery  here  we  cannot  solve,  and 
need  not  try  to  penetrate.  The  sinless  hu- 
manity of  Jesus  was  brought  into  intimate  and 
everlasting  union  with  the  divine  nature  of 
the  Son  of  God,  doubly  secured  as  we  should 
say  from  sin,  and  fully  qualified  for  all  the 
Messianic  service,  and  yet  we  are  taught  that 
that  humanity  was  impregnated  and  fitted  for 
its  work  by  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
He  was  born  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  was  led 
by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness.  In  the  syna- 
gogue of  Nazareth,  where  he  had  first  opened 
his  hps  as  a  public  teacher,  there  was  given  to 
him  the  book  of  the  prophet  Isaiah :  he  read 
the  words,  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me  ; 
and  having  read  the  passage  out,  he  closed  the 


176  ■    The  Baptism. 

book,  and  said,  This  day  is  this  Scripture  ful- 
filled in  your  ears.  John  testified  of  him  say- 
ing :  "He  whom  God  hath  sent  speaketh  the 
words  of  God,  for  God  giveth  not  the  Spirit  by 
measure  unto  him."  Jesus  said  of  himself: 
"  If  I  cast  out  devils  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  then 
is  the  kingdom  of  God  come  unto  you."  God 
sent  Peter  to  Cornehus  in  opening  the  king- 
dom to  the  Gentiles.  "God  anointed  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
power."  It  was  through  the  eternal  Spirit 
that  he  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God 
(Heb.  ix.  14).  He  was  declared  to  be  the  Son 
of  God  with  power,  according  to  the  Spirit  of 
holiness,  by  the  resurrection  from  the  dead 
(Rom.  i.  4).  It  was  through  the  Holy  Ghost 
that  he  gave  commandments  to  the  apostles 
whom  he  had  chosen,  until  the  day  in  which  he 
was  taken  up  (Acts  i.  2).  So  it  is  that  through 
every  stage  of  his  career  the  Spirit  is  with  him, 
qualifying  him  for  every  work,  why  or  how,  he 
alone  could  teU  us  who  could  lift  that  veil  which 
shrouds  the  innermost  recesses  of  the  Spirit  of 
the  Incarnate  Son  of  God. 

As  the  Spirit  lighted  upon  Jesus,  there  came 
to  hhn  a  voice  from  heaven.  This  voice  was 
twice  heard  again; — on  the  Mount  of  Trans- 


The  Baptism.  177 

figuration,  and  within  the  Temple.  It  was  the 
voice  of  the  Father.  No  man,  since  the  fall 
of  our  first  parent,  had  ever  heard  that  voice 
before,  as  no  man  has  ever  heard  it  since.  The 
fall  sealed  the  Father's  lips  in  silence  ;  all  di- 
vine communications  afterwards  with  man  were 
made  through  the  Son.  It  was  he  who  ap- 
peared and  spake  to  the  patriarchs  ;  it  was  he 
who  spake  from  the  summit  of  Sinai,  and  was 
the  giver  of  the  law  ;  but  now  for  the  first  time 
the  Father's  lips  are  opened,  the  long-kept 
silence  is  broken,  that  this  testimony  of  the 
Father  to  the  Sonship  of  Jesus,  this  expression 
of  his  entire  good  pleasure  with  him  as  he  en- 
ters upon  his  ministry,  may  be  given.  That 
testimony  and  expression  of  approval  were  re- 
peated afterwards  in  the  very  same  words  at 
the  transfiguration  ;  the  words  indeed  on  that 
occasion  were  spoken  not  to,  but  of  Jesus,  and 
addressed  to  the  disciples  ;  and  so  with  a  latent 
reference  perhaps  to  Moses  and  Elias,  the 
Father  said  to  them  :  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son, 
in  whom  I  am  well  pleased  :  hear  ye  him." 
But  at  the  baptism  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke 
agree  in  stating  that  the  words  were  spoken 
not  of,  but  directly  to  Christ  himself  Prima- 
rily  and   eminently   it   may    have   been    for 


178  The  Baptism. 

Christ's  own  sake  that  the  words  were  upon 
this  occasion  spoken  ;  and  as  we  contemplate 
them  in  this  hght,  we  feel  that  no  thought  can 
fathom  their  import,  nor  gauge  what  fullness 
of  joy  and  strength  they  may  have  carried  into 
the  bosom  of  our  Lord.  But  here  too  there 
is  a  veil  which  we  must  not  try  to  lift.  In- 
stead of  thinking  then  what  meaning  or  power 
this  assurance  of  his  Sonship,  and  of  the  Fa- 
ther's full  complacency  in  him,  may  have  had 
for  Christ,  let  us  take  it  as  opening  to  our 
view  the  one  and  only  way  of  our  adoption 
and  acceptance  by  the  Father,  even  "by  our 
being  so  well  pleased  in  all  things  with  Christ, 
our  having  such  simple,  implicit  faith  in  him 
that  the  Father  looking  upon  us  as  one  with 
him,  becomes  also  well  pleased  with  us. 


IX. 

THE  TEMPTATION.* 

SATAN  was  suffered  to  succeed  in  his  temp- 
tation of  our  first  parents.  His  success 
may  for  the  moment  have  seemed  to  him  com- 
plete, secure  ;  for  did  not  the  sentence  run, 
"In  the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou 
shalt  surely  die?''  And  did  not  that  sentence 
come  from  One  whose  steadfast  truthfulness — 
dispute  it  as  he  might  in  words  with  Eve — 
none  knew  better  than  himself?  Having  once 
then  got  man  to  sin,  he  might  have  fancied 
that  he  had  broken  for  ever  the  tie  that  bound 
earth  to  heaven,  that  he  had  armed  against 
the  first  inhabitants  of  our  globe  the  same 
resistless  might,  and  the  same  unyielding 
justice  by  which  he  and  the  partners  of  the 
first  revolt   in  heaven  had  been  driven  away 


•  Matthew  iv.  1-11 ;  Mark  i.  12,  13  ;  Luke  iv.  1-13. 


180  The  Temptation. 

into  their  dark  and  ignominious  prison-house. 
But  if  such  a  hope  had  place  for  a  season  in 
the  tempter's  breast,  it  must  surely  have  given 
way  when,  summoned  together  with  his  vic- 
tims into  the  divine  presence,  the  Lord  God 
said  to  him  :  "I  will  put  enmity  between  thee 
and  the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her 
seed  ;  it  shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt 
bruise  his  heel."  Obscure  as  these  words  may 
at  the  time  have  seemed,  yet  must  they  have 
taught  Satan  to  know  that  his  empire  over  this 
new-formed  world  was  neither  to  be  an  undis- 
puted nor  an  undivided  one.  An  enmity  of 
some  kind  between  his  seed  and  the  woman's 
seed  was  to  arise  ;  no  mere  temporary  irrita- 
tion and  insubordination  on  the  part  of  his 
new  subjects,  but  an  enmity  which  would 
prove  fatal  to  himself  and  to  his  kingdom,  the 
final  advantage  in  the  predicted  warfare  being 
all  against  him,  for  while  he  was  to  bruise  the 
heel  of  his  enemy,  that  enemy  was  to  bruise 
his  head,  to  crush  his  power. 

It  could  not  therefore  have  been  with  a  sense 
of  security  free  from  uneasy  anticipations,  that 
from  the  days  of  the  first  Adam  down  to  the 
birth  of  the  second,  the  God  of  this  world  held 
his  empire  over  our  earth.     His  dominion  was 


The  Temptation.  181 

the  dominion  of  sin  and  death,  and  his  triumph 
might   seem    complete,  none  of  all  our   race 
being  found  who  could  keep  himself  from  sin  ; 
whilst  every  one  that  sinned  had  died.     But 
were   there   no  checks  to  the  exercise  of  his 
power,  nothing   to   inspire   him   with    alarm? 
Had  not  Enoch  and  Elijah  passed  away  from 
the  world  without  tasting  death?     And  must 
it  not  have  appeared  to    him   an   inscrutable 
mystery  that  so  many  human  spirits  escaped  at 
death,  altogether    from    beneath    his    sway  ? 
There  were  those  prophecies,  besides,  delivered 
in  Judea,  of  which  he  could  not  be  ignorant, 
getting   clearer  and  clearer   as   they  grew  in 
number,  speaking   of  the    advent   of  a  great 
deliverer  of  the  race  ;  there  were  those  Jewish 
ceremonies  prefiguring  some  great  event  dis- 
astrous to  his  reign  ;  there  was  the  whole  his- 
tory and  government  of  that  wonderful  people, 
the   seed  of  Israel,  guided  by  another   hand 
than  his,  and  regulated  with  a  hostile  purpose. 
All  this  must  have  awakened  dark  forebod- 
ings within  Satan's  breast ;  forebodings  stirred 
into  a  heightened  terror  when  one  of  the  wo- 
man's seed  at  last  appeared,  who,  for   thirty 
years,  with   perfect   ease,  apparently  without 
a  struggle,  resisted  all  the  seductions  by  which 


182  The  Temptation. 

his  brethren  of  mankind  had  been  led  into  sin. 
The  visit  of  Grabriel  to  Nazareth,  the  angehc 
salutations,  the  angels  that  appeared  and  the 
hymns  that  floated  over  the  hills  of  Bethlehem, 
the  adoration  of  the  shepherds,  the  worship  of 
the  wise  men,  the  prophecies  of  the  Temple — 
all  these,  let  us  beheve,  were  known  to  the 
great  adversary  of  our  race  ;  but  not  one  nor 
all  of  them  together  excited  in  him  such  won- 
der or  alarm  as  this  simple  fact,  that  here  at 
last  was  one  who  stood  absolutely  stainless  in 
the  midst  of  the  world's  manifold  pollutions. 
So  long  however,  as  Jesus  lived  quietly  and 
obscurely  at  Nazareth  he  might  be  permitted 
to  enjoy  his  solitary  triumph  undisturbed,  but 
his  baptism  in  the  Jordan  brings  him  out  from 
his  retreat.  This  voice  from  heaven,  a  voice 
that  neither  man  nor  devil  had  ever  heard  be- 
fore, resounding  through  the  opened  skies, 
proclaims  Him  to  be  more  than  a  son  of  man — ■ 
to  be,  in  very  deed,  the  Son  of  God.  Who  can 
this  mysterious  being  be  ? — an  alien  and  an 
enemy,  Satan  has  counted  him  from  his  youth. 
But  his  Sonship  to  God !  What  can  that  im- 
ply ;  how  is  it  to  be  manifested  ?  The  time 
has  come  for  putting  him  to  extreme  trial,  and, 
if  he  may  not  be  personally  overcome,  for  fore- 


The  Temptation.  183 

ing  him  to  disclose  his  character  at  the  com- 
mencement of  his  career. 

The  opportunity  for  making  the  attempt  is 
given.     "  Then  was  Jesus  led  up  of  the  Spirit 
into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted  of  the  devil." 
It  was  not,  we  may  believe,  under  anything  like 
compulsion,  outward  or  inward,  that  Jesus  act- 
ed when  immediately  after  his  baptism  he  re- 
tired to  the  desert.     Between  the  promptings 
of  the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  movements  of 
Christ  there  ever  must  have  been  the  most  en- 
tire consent  and  harmony.     Why,  then,  so  in- 
stantly   after   his   public   inauguration   to   his 
earthly  work,  is  there  this  voluntary  retirement 
of  our  Lord,  this  hiding  of  himself  in  lonely 
solitudes  ?     Accepting  here  the  statement  of 
the    Evangelist,  that   it   was    to    furnish    the 
Prince  of  Darkness  with  the  fit  opportunity  of 
assaulting  him,  may  we  not  believe  that  these 
forty    days    in    the    wilderness   without   food 
served  some  other   ends  besides — did  for  our 
Lord  in  his  higher  vocation  what  the  forty  days 
of  fasting  did  for   Moses  and  Elijah   in    their 
lesser  prophetic  office  ;  that  they  were  days  of 
preparation,  meditation,  prayer — a  brief  season 
interposed  between  the  peaceful  private  life  of 
Nazareth,  and  the  public  troubled  life  on  which 


184  The  Temptation. 

he  was  about  to  enter,  for  the  purpose  of  gird- 
ing him  up  for  the  great  task  assigned  to 
him — a  season  of  such  close,  absorbing,  elevat- 
ing spiritual  exercises  that  the  spirit  triumphed 
over  the  body,  and  for  a  time  felt  not  even  the 
need  of  daily  food  ?  It  was  not  till  these  forty 
days  were  over  that  he  was  an-hungered,  nor 
was  it  till  hunger  was  felt  that  the  tempter 
came  in  person  to  assault.  The  expressions 
used  indeed  by  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke  appear 
to  imply  that  the  temptation  ran  through  all 
the  forty  days ;  but  if  so,  it  must,  in  the  first 
instance,  have  been  of  an  inward  and  purely 
spiritual  character,  such  as  we  can  well  con- 
ceive mingling  with  and  shadowing  those  other 
exercises  to  which  the  days  and  nights  of  that 
long  solitude  and  fasting  were  devoted. 

And  yet,  though  the  holy  spirit  of  our  Lord 
prompted  him  to  follow  with' willing  footstep 
the  leadings  of  the  Holy  Grhost,  his  true  hu- 
manity may  well  have  shrunk  from  what 
awaited  him  in  the  desert.  He  knew  that  he 
was  there  to  come  into  close  contact  with,  to 
meet  in  personal  encounter  the  Head  of  that 
kingdom  he  was  commissioned  to  overthrow  ; 
and,  even  as  in  the  Garden  human  w^eakness 
sank  tremblingly  under  the  burden  of  immeasur- 


The  Temptation.  185 

able  woe,  so  here  it  may  have  shrunk  from 
such  an  mterview  and  such  a  conflict,  needing 
as  it  were  to  be  urged  by  Divine  compulsion, 
and  thus  authorizing  the  strong  expression 
which  St.  Mark  employs,  "  Immediately  the 
Spirit  driveth  him  into  the  wilderness."  It 
may  in  fact  have  been  no  small  part  of  that 
trial  which  ran  through  the  forty  days  that  he 
had  continually  before  him,  the  approach  and 
the  encounter  with  the  Prince  of  Darkness. 

Whatever  that  state  of  his  spirit  was  which 
rendered  him  insensible  to  the  cravings  of 
hunger,  it  terminates  with  the  close  of  the 
forty  days.  ^The  inward  supports  that  had 
borne  him  up  during  that  rapt  ecstatic  condi- 
tion are  removed.  He  sinks  back  into  a  nat- 
ural condition.  The  common  bodily  sensa- 
tions begin  to  be  experienced  ;  a  strong  crav- 
ing for  food  is  felt.  Now,  then,  is  the  mo- 
ment for  the  tempter  to  make  his  first  assault 
upon  the  Holy  One,  as  weak,  famished,  the 
hunger  of  his  long  fast  gnawing  at  his  heart, 
he  wanders  with  the  wild  beasts  as  his  sole 
companions  over  the  frightful  solitudes.  Com- 
ing upon  him  abruptly,  he  says  to  Jesus,  "If 
thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command  that  these 
stones  be  made  bread."     The  words  of  the  re- 


186  The  Temptation. 

cent  baptismal  scene  at  the  Jordan  are  yet 
ringing  in  Satan's  ears.  He  knows  not  what 
to  make  of  them.  He  would  fain  believe  them 
false  ;  or  better  still,  he  wonld  fain  prove  them 
false  by  prevailing  upon  Christ  himself  to 
doubt  their  truth.  For,  for  him  to  doubt  his 
Father's  word  would  be  virtually  to  renounce, 
disprove  his  Sonship.  Even  then,  as  by  his 
artful  insidious  speech  to  the  woman  in  the 
garden — Yea,  has  God  said.  In  the  day  thou 
eatest  thou  shalt  die  ? — he  sought  to  insinuate 
a  secret  doubt  of  the  divine  truthfulness  and 
divine  goodness,  so  here,  into  the  bosom  of 
Jesus  in  the  wilderness,  he  seeks  to  infuse  a 
kindred  doubt. 

'  If  thou  be  really  the  Son  of  God,  as  I  have 
so  lately  heard  thee  called.  But  canst  thou 
be  ?  can  it  be  here,  and  thus — alone  in  these 
desert  places,  foodless,  companionless,  com- 
fortless, for  so  many  days — that  God  would 
leave  or  trust  his  Son  ?  But  if  thou  wilt  not 
doubt  that  thou  art  his  Son,  surely  God  could 
never  mean  nor  wish  that  his  Son  should  con- 
tinue in  such  a  state  as  this  ?  If  thou  be  truly 
what  thou  hast  been  called,  thert  all  power 
must  be  thine  ;  whatsoever  things  the  Father 
doeth,  thou  too  must  be  able  to  do.     Show, 


The  Temptation.  187 

then,  thy  Sonship,  exert  thy  power,  relieve 
thyself  from  this  pressing  hunger  ;  *'  command 
that  these  stones  be  made  bread." '  The 
temptation  here  is  twofold  :  to  shake  if  possi- 
ble Christ's  confidence  in  Him  who  had  brought 
him  into  such  a  condition  of  extreme  need,  and 
to  induce  him,  under  the  influence  of  that  dis- 
trust, to  exert  at  once  his  own  power  to  de- 
liver himself,  to  work  a  miracle  to  provide 
himself  with  food.  The  temptation  is  at  once 
repelled,  not  by  any  assertion  of  his  Sonship, 
or  of  his  abiding  trust  in  God,  in  opposition  to 
the  insidious  doubt  suggested, — for  that  doubt 
the  Saviour  never  cherished ;  the  shaft  that 
carried  this  doubt  in  it,  though  artfully  con- 
trived and  skillfully  directed,  glanced  innocu- 
ous from  the  mind  of  that  confiding  Son,  who 
was  ever  as  well  pleased  with  the  Father, 
as  the  Father  had  declared  himself  to  be  with 
him. 

Nor  was  the  temptation  repelled  by  any 
sach  counter  argument  as  that  it  was  inad- 
missible to  exert  his  Divine  power  merely  for 
his  own  benefit ;  but  by  a  simple  quotation 
from  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  :  "  It  is  writ- 
ten, Man  shall  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by 
every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth 


188  The  Temptation. 

of  God."  Jesus  waives  thus  all  question  about 
his  being  the  Son  of  God,  or  how  it  behoved 
him  in  that  character  to  act.  He  takes  his 
place  as  a  son  of  man,  and  lays  his  hand  upon 
an  incident  in  the  history  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  who,  led  out  into  the  wilderness,  and 
continuing  as  destitute  of  common  food  for 
forty  years  as  he  had  been  for  forty  days,  re- 
ceived in  due  time  the  manna  provided  for 
them  by  God,  who  said  to  them  afterwards,  by 
the  lips  of  Moses  :  *'  The  Lord  thy  God  hum- 
bled thee,  and  suffered  thee  to  hunger,  and 
fed  thee  with  manna,  that  he  might  make  thee 
know  that  man  doth  not  live  by  bread  alone, 
but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God."  It  was  by  the  word  of  the 
Lord's  creative  power  that  for  those  hungry 
Israelites  the  manna  was  provided  ;  that  word 
went  forth  at  the  Lord's  own  time,  and  to  meet 
his  people's  wants  in  the  Lord's  own  way  ; 
and  upon  that  word,  that  is,  upon  Him  whose 
word  it  was,  Jesus,  when  now  like  the  Israel- 
ites an-hungered  in  the  wilderness,  will  rely. 
It  is  not  necessary  for  him  to  turn  stones  into 
bread  in  order  to  sustaiu  his  life  ;  other  kind 
of  food  his  Father,  if  he  so  pleased,  could  pro- 
vide, and  he  will  leave  him  to  do  as  he  pleases. 


The  Temptation.  189 

From  that  entire  dependence  on  his  Father,  to 
which  in  his  present  circumstances,  and  under 
that  Father's  guidance,  he  had  been  shut  up, 
he  had  no  desh'e  to  be  reheved — would  cer- 
tainly do  nothing  prematurely  to  relieve  him- 
self, and  least  of  all  at  Satan's  bidding  would 
use  the  higher,  the  divine  faculty  that  was  in 
him,  as  a  mere  instrument  of  self-gratification. 
It  was  in  the  same  spirit  of  self-denial,  that 
ever  afterwards  he  acted.  Those  who  taunted 
him  on  the  cross,  by  saying,  "  If  thou  be  the 
Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the  cross,"  knew 
not  how  exact  an  echo  their  speech  at  Calvary 
was  of  Satan's  speech  in  the  wilderness, — how 
thoroughly  they  were  proving  their  parentage, 
as  being  of  their  father  the  Devil.  But  Jesus 
would  do  neither  as  Satan  nor  these  his  child- 
ren bade  him.  His  power  divine  was  given 
him  to  execute  the  great  office  of  our  spiritual 
deliverer  :  his  way  to  the  execution  of  his 
office  lay  through  trial,  suffering,  and  death, 
and  he  would  not  call  that  power  in  to  save 
him  from  any  part  of  the  required  endurance  ; 
neither  from  the  hunger  of  the  wilderness,  nor 
from  any  of  the  far  heavier  loads  he  had  after- 
wards to  bear. 

Foiled  in   his  first   attempt,  accepting  but 


190  The  Temptation. 

profiting  by  his  defeat,  the  artful  adversary  at 
once  reverses  his  method,  and  assaults  the  Sa- 
viour precisely  on  the  other  side.  He  has  tried 
to  shake  Christ's  trust  in  his  Father  ;  he  has 
failed  ;  that  trust  seems  only  to  gather  strength 
the  more  severely  it  is  proved  ;  he  will  work 
now  upon  that  very  trust,  and  try  to  press  it 
into  presumption.  "  Then  the  Devil  taketh 
him  up  into  the  holy  city,  and  setteth  him  on 
a  pinnacle  of  the  Temple,  and  saith  unto  him, 
If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  cast  thyself  down." 
'  I  acknowledge  that  you  have  been  right  in  the 
wilderness,  that  you  have  acted  as  a  true  Son 
of  the-  Father.  You  have  given,  in  fact,  no 
mean  proof  of  your  entire  confidence  in  him  as 
your  Father,  in  standing  there  in  the  extrem- 
ity of  hunger,  and  virtually  saying,  I  am  here 
by  the  will  of  God,  here  he  can  and  he  will 
provide,  I  leave  all  to  him.  But  come,  I  ask 
you  now  to  make  another  and  still  more  strik- 
ing display  of  your  dependence  in  all  possible 
conjunctures  on  the  Divine  aid.  Show  me, 
and  all  those  worshippers  in  the  court  below, 
how  far  this  faith  of  yours  in  your  Father  will 
carry  you.  Do  now,  what  in  the  sight  of  all 
will  prove  you  to  be  the  very  one  the  JeWs 
are  looking  for.     If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God, 


The  Temptation.  191 

then,  as  we  shall  presume  thou  art,  cast  thy- 
self down  ;  the  God  who  sustained  thy  body 
without  food  in  the  wilderness,  can  surely  sus- 
tain it  as  you  fling  yourself  into  the  yielding 
air  ;  the  people  who  are  longing  to  see  some 
wonder  done  by  their  expected  Messiah,  will 
hail  you  as  such  at  once,  when  they  see  you, 
instead  of  being  dashed  to  pieces,  floating  down 
at  their  feet  as  gently  as  a  dove,  and  alighting 
in  the  midst  of  -them.  Give  to  me  and  them 
this  proof  of  the  greatness  of  your  faith,  the 
reality  of  your  Sonship  to  God  ;  and  if  you 
want  a  warrant  for  the  act  in  those  Scriptures 
which  you  have  already  quoted,  remember 
what  is  written  in  one  of  those  ancient  Psalms, 
a  psalm  that  the  wise  men  say  relates  to  you  : 
"  He  shall  give  his  angels  charge  concerning 
thee,  and  in  their  hands  they  shall  bear  thee 
up,  lest  at  any  time  thou  dash  thy  foot  against 
a  stone." ' 

As  promptly  as  before  the  Lord  replies  :  "It 
is  written  again.  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the 
Lord  thy  God."  Here  again,  there  is  no  at- 
tempt at  argument,  no  correction  of  the  quo- 
tation which  the  tempter  had  made,  no  re- 
mmdiug  him  that,  in  quoting,  he  had  omitted 
one  essential  clause,  "He  shall  keep  thee  in  all 


192  The  Temptation. 

thy  ways,"  the  ways  of  his  appointment,  not 
of  thine  own  fashioning.  The  one  Scripture 
is  simply  met  by  the  other,  and  left  to  be  in- 
terpreted thereby.  "  Thou  shalt  not  tempt 
the  Lord  thy  God."  To  trust  was  one  thing, 
to  tempt  another.  Jesus  would  rely  to  the 
very  uttermost  upon  the  Divine  faithfulness, 
upon  God's  promised  care  and  help  ;  but  he 
would  not  put  that  faithfulness  to  a  needless 
trial.  If  put  by  the  Devil  in  a  position  of 
difficulty  and  danger,  he  will  cherish  an  un- 
bounded trust  in  God,  and  if  extrication  from 
that  position  be  desirable,  and  no  other  way 
of  effecting  it  be  left,  he  will  even  believe  that 
God  will  miraculously  interpose  in  his  behalf. 
But  he  will  not  of  his  own  accord,  without 
any  proper  call  or  invitation,  for  no  other  pur- 
})ose  than  to  make  an  experiment  of  the 
Father's  willingness  to  aid  him,  to  make  a  show 
of  the  kind  of  heavenly  protection  he  could 
claim  ;  he  will  not  voluntarily  place  himself  in 
such  a  position.  He  was  here  on  the  pinnacle 
of  the  Temple,  from  that  pinnacle  there  was 
another  open,  easy,  safe  method  of  descent  ; 
why  should  he  refuse  to  take  it  if  he  desired  to 
descend  ;  why  fling  himself  into  open  space  ? 
If  he  did  so  unasked,  unordered  by  God  him- 


The  Temptation.  193 

self,  what  warrant  could  he  have  that  the  Di- 
vine power  would  be  put  forth  to  bear  him  up  ? 
God  had  indeed  promised  to  bear  him  up,  but 
he  had  not  bidden  hhn  cast  himself  down,  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  see  whether  he  would 
be  borne  up  or  not ;  to  do  what  Satan  wished 
him  to  do,  would  be  to  show  not  the  strength 
of  his  faith,  but  the  extent  of  his  presumption. 
Thus  once  again  by  that  sword  of  the  Spirit, 
which  is  the  Word  of  God,  is  the  second  thrust 
of  the  adversary  turned  aside. 

These  first  two  temptations,  whilst  opposite 
in  character  have  yet  much  that  is  common  to 
both.  The  preface  to  each  of  them  is  the 
same  :  "If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,"— a  pre- 
face obviously  suggested  by  the  recent  testimo- 
ny at  the  baptism.  They  have  also  the  com- 
mon object  of  probing  to  the  bottom,  and  thus 
trying  to  ascertain,  the  powers  and  privileges 
which  this  Sonship  to  God  conferred.  There 
was  curiosity  as  well  as  mahce  in  the  double 
effort  to  do  so,  and  the  subtlety  of  their  method 
lay  in  this,  that  they  were  so  constructed  that 
had  Christ  yielded  to  either,  in  the  very  dis- 
closure of  his  Godhead,  there  had  been  an 
abuse  of  its  power.  Had  Jesus  taken  the  De- 
vil's way  of  proving  his  strength,  he  would  have 


194:  The  Temptation. 

taken  the  very  way  to  have  broken  it.  In 
those  first  two  temptations,  Satan  had  spoken 
nothing  of  himself,  had  revealed  nothing  of  his 
purposes  ;  but  balked  in  them  he  now  drops 
the  mask,  appears  in  his  own  person,  and 
boldly  claims  homage  from  Christ :  "  Again, 
the  Devil  taketh  him  up  into  an  exceeding  high 
mountain,  and  showeth  him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of  them  ;  and  saith 
unto  him.  All  these  things  will  I  give  thee,  if 
thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me."  Had  it 
been  upon  the  actual  summit  of  the  Temple  at 
Jerusalem  that  Jesus  previously  had  been 
placed,  and  if  so,  how  was  his  conveyance 
thither  effected  ?  was  it  upon  the  actual  summit 
of  some  earthly  mountain  that  the  feet  of  our 
Saviour  were  now  planted,  and  if  so,  how  was 
it,  how  could  it  be  that  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  the  glory  of  them  were  brought  be- 
fore his  eye  ?  We  have  no  answer  to  give  to 
those  questions  ;  we  care  not  to  speculate  as  to 
the  outward  mode  in  which  each  temptation 
was  managed.  We  are  willing  to  believe  any- 
thing as  to  the  accessories  of  this  narrative 
which  leave  untouched  its  truthfulness  as  a 
historic  record  of  an  actual  and  personal  en- 
counter between  the  Prince  of  Darkness  and 


The  Temptation.  195 

the  Prince  of  Light.  That  the  gospel  narra- 
tive is  such  a  record,  we  undoubtingly  beheve, 
and  are  strengthened  in  our  faith  as  we  per- 
ceive not  only  the  suitableness  and  the  subtlety 
of  each  individual  temptation,  as  addressed  to 
the  humanity  of  our  Lord,  assaulting  it  in  the 
only  quarters  in  which  it  lay  open  to  assault ; 
but  the  comprehensiveness  of  the  whole  temp- 
tation, as  exemplifying  those  classes  of  tempta- 
tions by  which  humanity  at  large,  by  which 
each  of  us,  individually,  is  seduced  from  the 
path  of  true  obedience  unto  God.  The  body, 
soul,  and  spirit  of  our  Lord  were  each  in  turn 
invaded ;  byjhe  lust  of  the  flesh,  by  the  lust  of 
the^eyas^  by.  the  pride  of  life,  it  was  attempted 
to  draw  him  away  from  his  allegiance.  The 
first  temptation  was  built  upon  bodily  appetite, 
the  hunger  of  the  long  fast ;  the  second,  upon 
the  love  of  ostentation,  the  desire  we  all  have 
to  show  to  the  uttermost  in  what  favor  we 
stand  with  God  or  men ;  the  third,  upon 
ambition,  the  love  of  earthly,  outward  power 
and  glory. 

The  third  had,  however,  a  special  adaptation 
to  Christ's  personal  character  and  position  at 
the  time,  and  this  very  adaptation  lent  to  it 
peculiar  strength,  making  it,  as  it  was  the  last. 


^96  The  Temptation. 

so  also  the  most  insidious,  the  most  alluring  of 
the  three.     Jesus  knew  the  ancient  prophecies 
about  a  universal  monarchy  that  was  to  be  set 
up  in  the  days  of  Messiah  the  Prince.     From 
the  days  of  his  childhood,  when  in  the  Temple 
he  had  sat  among  the  doctors,  hearing  them 
and  asking  them  questions,  the  sacred  volume 
which  contained  these  prophecies  had  been  in 
his  hands.     Who  shall  tell  us  with  what  inter- 
est, with  what  wonder,  with  what  self-applica- 
tion these  prophecies  were  pondered  by  him  in 
the  days  of  his  youth,  during  which  he  grew  in 
wisdom  as  he  grew  in  years  ?     Who  shall  tell 
us  how  soon  or  how  fully  he  attained  the  sub- 
lime  consciousness   that   he   was   himself    the 
Messiah  of  whom  that  volume  spake  ?     What- 
ever may  have  been  his  earlier  experience,  at 
the  time  at  least  when  the  attestation  at  his 
baptism  was   given,   that    consciousness   filled 
and  pervaded  his  spirit.     But  he  fell  not  into 
the  general  delusion  which,  in  its  desire  for  a 
conquering  and  victorious  prince,  lost  sight  of 
a   suffering,   dying  Redeemer.     He  knew  full 
well  that  the  path  marked  out  for  him  as  the 
Saviour   of  mankind  lay  through  profoundest 
sorrow,    and   would    end   in   agonizing   death. 
How  much  of  all  this  Satan  knew,  it  would  be 


The  Temptation.  197 

presumptuous   to   conjecture.     This,  however, 
we    are   assured,  that  he   knew — for   he   had 
heard  and  could  quote  the  ancient  prophecies 
which  pointed  to  it — he  knew  about  a  mon- 
archy that  in  the  last  days  the  God  of  heaven 
was  to  set  up,  which  was  to  overturn  his  own, 
which  was  to  embrace  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world,  and  into  which  all  the  glory  of  these 
kingdoms  was  to  be  brought.     And  he  may, 
we  might  almost  say,   he  must  have   known 
beforehand  of   the  toil,  and  strife,  and  hard 
endurance  through  which  the   throne  of  that 
monarchy  was  to  be  reached  by  his  great  rival. 
And  now  that  rival  is  before  him,  just  en- 
tering upon  his  career.     Upon  that  rival  he 
will  make  a  bold  attempt.     He  will  show  him 
all  those  kingdoms  that  have  been  so  long  un- 
der his  dominion  as  the  Grod  of  this  world.     He 
will  offer  them  all  to  him  at  once,  without  a 
single   blow   being  struck,   a  single  peril  en- 
countered, a  single  suffering  endured.     He  will 
save  him  all  that  conflict  which,  if  not  doubtful 
in  the  issue,  was  to  be  so  painful  in  its  progress. 
He  will  lay  down  his  sceptre,  and  suffer  Jesus 
to  take  it  up.     In  one  great  gift  he  will  make 
over  his  whole  right  of  empire  over  these  king- 
doms of  the  world  to  Christ,  suffer  him  at  once 


198  The  Temptation. 

to  enter  upon  possession  of  them,  and  clothe 
himself  with  all  their  glory.  This  is  his  glit- 
tering bribe,  and  all  he  asks  in  return  is  that 
Jesus  shall  do  him  homage,  as  the  superior  by 
whom  the  splendid  fief  was  given,  and  under 
whom  it  is  held. 

A  bold  and  blasphemous  attempt,  for  who 
gave  him  those  kingdoms  thus  to  give  away  ? 
And  how  could  he  imagine  that  Jesus  was  open 
to  a  bribe,  or  would  ever  bow  the  knee  to  him  ? 
Let  us  remember,  however,  that  we  all  judge 
others  by  ourselves  ;  that  there  are  those  who 
think  that  every  man  has  his  price  ;  that,  make 
the  bribe  but  large  enough,  and  any  man  may 
be  bought.  And  at  the  head  of  such  thinkers 
is  Satan.  He  judged  Jesus  by  himself.  And 
even  as  through  lust  of  government  he,  arch- 
angel though  he  was,  had  not  hesitated  to 
withdraw  his  worship  from  the  Supreme,  so 
may  he  have  thought  that,  taken  unawares, 
even  the  Son  of  God  himself  might  have  fallen 
before  the  dazzling  temptation.  Had  he  done 
so,  Satan  would  indeed  have  triumphed  ;  for 
putting  wholly  out  of  the  question  the  violated 
relationship  to  the  Father,  Jesus  would  thus 
have  renounced  all  the  purely  moral  and  re- 
ligious  purposes  of  his  mission — would  have 


The  Temptation.  199 

ceased  to  be  regarded  as  the  author  of  a  spir- 
itual revohition,  and  the  founder  of  a  spu'itual 
kingdom,  affecting  myriads  of  human  spirits 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  time,  and 
would  thenceforth  have  taken  up  the  character 
of  a  mere  vulgar  earthly  monarch. 

But  Satan  knew  not  with  whom  he  had  to 
do.  The  eye  of  Jesus  may  for  a  moment  have 
been  dazzled  by  the  offer  made,  and  this  im- 
plied neither  imperfection  nor  sin,  but  it  refused 
to  rest  upon  the  seducing  spectacle.  It  turned 
quickly  and  resolutely  away.  No  sooner  is  the 
bribe  offered  than  it  is  repelled.  In  haste,  as 
if  that  magnificent  panorama  was  not  one  on 
which  even  his  pm^e  eye  should  be  suffered  to 
repose  ;  as  if  this  temptation  were  one  which 
even  he  could  not  afford  to  dally  with  ;  in  an- 
ger too  at  the  base  condition  coupled  with  the 
bribe,  and  as  if  he  who  offered  it  could  no 
longer  be  suffered  to  remain  in  his  presence,  he 
calls  the  Devil  by  his  name,  and  says :  "  Get 
thee  hence,  Satan  ;  for  it  is  \Vritten,  Thou  shalt 
worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him  only  shalt 
thou  serve."  Satan  had  wanted  Jesus  to  give 
him  some  proof  of  his  Divine  power,  and  now 
he  gets  it  ;  gets  it  as  that  command  is  given 
which   he   must  instantly  obey.     At  once  all 


200  The  Temptation. 

that  glittering  illusion  that  he  had  conjured  up 
vanishes  from  the  view.  At  once  his  hateful 
presence  is  withdrawn,  the  conflict  is  over,  the. 
victory  is  complete.  Jesus  stands  once  more 
alone  in  the  wilderness,  but  he  is  not  left  alone. 
Angels  come  and  minister  unto  him,  gazing 
with  wonder  on  that  mysterious  man  who  has 
entered  into  this  solitary  conflict  with  the  hea(j 
of  the  principalities  and  powers  of  darkness, 
and  foiled  him  at  every  point. 

But  how  are  we  to  look  upon  this  mysterious 
passage  in  the  life  of  Christ  ?  Are  we  to  read 
the  record  of  it  as  we  would  the  story  of  a 
duel  between  two  great  chiefs,  under  neither 
of  whom  we  shall  ever  have  to  serve,  in  the 
mode  and  tactics  of  whose  warfare  we  have 
consequently  but  little  interest  ?  The  very  re- 
verse. He  who  appeared  that  day  in  the  wil- 
derness before  Jesus,  and  by  so  many  wily 
acts  strove  to  rob  him  of  his  integrity  as  a  Son 
of  the  Father,  goeth  about  still  as  the  arch- 
enemy of  our  souls,  seeking  whom  he  may  de- 
vour. His  power  over  us  is  not  weakened, 
though  it  failed  on  Christ.  His  malice  against 
us  is  not  lessened,  though  it  was  impotent 
when  tried  on  him.  The  time,  the  person,  the 
circumstances,    all    bestowed    an    undoubted 


The  Temptation.  201 

peculiarity  upon  these  temptations  of  the  wil- 
derness, the  Temple,  and  the  mountain-top. 
We  may  be  ver}^  sure  that  by  temptations  the 
same  in  outward  form  no  other  human  being 
shall  ever  be  assailed.  But  setting  aside  all 
that  was  special  in  them,  let  us  lay  our  hand 
on  the  radical  and  essential  principle  of  each 
of  these  three  temptations,  that  we  may  see 
whether  each  of  us  is  not  still  personally  ex- 
posed to  it. 

In  the  first  instance,  Christ,  when  under  the 
pressure  of  one  of  the  most  urgent  appetites  of 
our  nature,  is  tempted  to  use  a  power  that  he  got 
for  other  purposes,  to  minister  to  his  own  grat- 
ification. He  is  tempted,  in  fact,  to  use  unlaw- 
ful means  to  procure  food.  Is  that  a  rare 
temptation  ?  Not  to  speak  here  of  those  poor 
unfortunates  who,  under  a  like  pressure,  are 
tempted  to  put  forth  their  hands  to  what  is  not 
their  own,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  merchant 
whom,  in  the  brightest  season  of  his  prosperity, 
some  sore  and  unexpected  calamity  overtakes  ? 
Through  some  reckless  speculation,  hs  sees  the 
gay  vision  of  his  hopes  give  way  and  utter 
ruin  stand  before  him  but  a  few  days  ofi".  The 
dismal  picture  of  a  family  accustomed  to  wealth 
plunged  into  poverty  already  haunts  his  eye 


202  The  Temptation. 

and  rends  his  heart.  But  a  short  respite  still 
is  given.  Those  around  him  are  ignorant  how 
he  stands,  his  credit  still  is  good,  confidence  in 
him  is  still  unbroken.  He  can  use  that  credit, 
he  can  employ  the  facilities  which  that  confi- 
dence still  gives.  He  dishonorably  does  so  ; 
with  stealthy  hand  he  places  a  portion  of  his 
fortune  beyond  the  reach  of  his  future  creditors 
to  keep  it  for  his  family's  use.  That  man  meets 
and  fiills  under  the  very  same  temptation  with 
which  our  Lord  and  Master  was  assailed.  Dis- 
trusting God,  he  uses  the  powers  and  opportu- 
nities given  him,  unrighteously  and  for  selfish 
ends.  He  forgets  that  man  liveth  not  by  bread 
alone,  but  by  every  word  which  proceedeth 
out  of  the  mouth  of  God. 

Or  what  again  shall  we  say  of  him  who, 
fairly  committed  to  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  em- 
barked in  the  great  effort  of  overcoming  all 
that  is  evil  in  his  evil  nature,  plunges,  with 
scarce  a  thought,  into  scenes  and  amid  temp- 
tations such  that  it  would  need  a  miracle  to 
bring  him  forth  unscathed  ?  That  man  meets 
and  falls  under  the  very  same  temptation  with 
which  our  Saviour  was  assailed,  when  the  Devil 
said.  Cast  thyself  down,  and  quoted  the  prom- 
ise of  Divine  support.     Many  and  most  pre- 


The  Temptation.  203 

cious  indeed  are  the  promises  of  Divine  pro- 
tection and  support  given  us  in  the  Word  of 
God,  but  they  are  not  for  us  to  rest  on  if  reck- 
lessly and  needlessly  we  rush  into  danger,  cross- 
ing any  of  the  common  laws  of  nature,  or 
trampling  the  dictates  of  ordinary  prudence 
and  the  lesson  of  universal  experience  beneath 
our  feet.  It  is  not  faith,  it  is  presumption  which 
does  so. 

It  mio'ht  seem  that  we  could  find  no  actual 
parallel  to  the  last  temptation  of  our  Lord,  but 
in  truth  it  is  the  one  of  all  the  three  that  is  most 
frequently  presented.  Thrones  and  kingdoms, 
and  all  their  glory,  are  not  held  out  to  us,  but 
the  wealth  and  the  distinctions,  the  honors  and 
the  pleasures  of  life, — these  in  different  forms, 
in  different  degrees,  ply  with  their  solicitations 
all  of  us  in  every  rank  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  tempting  us  away  from  God  to  worship 
and  serve  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator, 
who  is  blessed  for  evermore.  A  spectacle  not 
so  wide,  less  gorgeous  in  its  coloring,  but  as 
sensuous,  as  illusive  as  that  presented  to  Je- 
sus on  the  mountain-top,  the  arch-deceiver 
spreads  out  before  our  eyes,  whispering  to  our 
hearts,  "  All  this  will  I  give  you  ;"  all  this 
money,    all  that   ease,    ah  that   pleasure,    all 


204  The  Temptation. 

that  rank,  all  that  power,  but  in  saying  so  he 
deals  with  us  more  treacherously  than  he  dealt 
with  Christ  of  old.  With  him  he  boldly  and 
broadly  laid  it  down  as  the  condition  of  the 
grant,  that  Christ  should  fall  down  and  wor- 
ship him.  He  asks  from  us  no  bending  of  the 
knee,  no  act  of  outward  worship  ;  all  he  asks 
is,  that  we  believe  his  false  promises,  and  turn 
away  from  God  and  Christ  to  give  ourselves 
up  to  worldliness  of  heart  and  habit  and  pur- 
suit. If  we  do  so  he  is  indifferent  how  we  now 
think  or  act  toward  himself  personally,  for  this 
is  one  of  the  worst  peculiarities  of  that  kingdom 
of  darkness  over  which  he  presides,  that  its  ru- 
ler knows  no  better  subjects  than  those  who 
deny  his  very  being,  and  disown  his  rule. 

But  if  it  be  to  the  very  same  temptations  as 
those  which  beset  our  divine  Lord  and  Master, 
that  we  are  still  exposed,  let  us  be  grateful  to 
him  for  teaching  us  how  to  overcome  them. 
He  used  throughout  a  single  weapon.  He  had 
the  whole  armory  of  heaven  at  his  command  ; 
but  he  chose  only  one  instrument  of  defence, 
the  Word,  the  written  Word,  that  sword  of  the 
Spirit.  It  was  it  that  he  so  successfully  em- 
ployed. Why  this  exclusive  use  of  an  old 
weapon?     He  did  not  need  to  have  recourse 


The  Temptation.  205 

to  it.  A  word  of  his  own  spoken  would  have 
had  as  much  power  as  a  written  one  quoted  ; 
but  then  the  lesson  of  his  example  had  been 
lost  to  us — the  evidence  that  he  himself  has 
left  behind  of  the  power  over  temptation  that 
lies  in  the  written  word.  Knowing,  then,  that 
you  wrestle  not  with  the  flesh  and  blood  alone, 
but  with  angels  and  principalities,  and  powers, 
and  with  him  the  head  of  all,  of  whose  devices 
it  becomes  you  not  to  be  ignorant,  take  unto 
you  the  whole  armor  of  Grod,  for  all  is 
needed  ;  but  remember,  of  all  the  pieces  of 
which  that  panoply  is  composed,  the  last  that 
is  put  into  the  hand  of  the  Christian  soldier  by 
the  great  Captain  of  his  salvation — put  into 
his  hand  as  the  one  that  he  himself,  on  the 
great  occasion  of  his  conflict  with  the  Devil, 
used — put  into  his  hand  as  the  most  effective 
and  the  only  one  that  serves  at  once  for  de- 
fence and  for  assault — is  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  and  the  Word  of  God.  By  it  all  other 
parts  of  the  armor  are  guarded.  The  hel- 
met might  be  shattered  on  the  brow,  the  shield 
wrenched  from  the  arm,  did  it  not  protect ; 
for  hope  and  faith,  that  helmet  and  that  shield, 
on  what  do  they  rest,^  but  upon  the  "Word  of 
the  living  God  ?  When  the  tempter  comes,  then, 


206  The  Temptation. 

and  plies  you  with  his  manifold  and  strong 
solicitations,  be  ready  to  meet  him,  as  Jesus 
met  him  in  the  wilderness,  and  you  shall  thus 
come  to  know  how  true  is  that  saying  of  Da- 
vid :  "By  the  words  of  thy  lips  I  have  kept 
me  from  the  path  of  the  destroyer." 


X. 

THE  FIRST  DISCIPLES.* 

FROM  the  forty  days  in  the  desert,  from  the 
long  fast,  from  the  triple  assault,  from  the 
great  victory  won,  from  the  companionship  of 
the  ministering  angels,  Jesus  returns  to  the 
banks  of  Jordan,  and  mingles  unnoticed  and 
unknown,  among  the  disciples  of  the  Baptist. 
On  the  day  of  his  return,  a  deputation  from 
the  Sanhedrim  in  Jerusalem  arrives,  to  insti- 
tute a  formal  and  authoritative  inquiry  into 
the  character  and  claims  of  the  great  preacher 
of  repentance.  John's  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions put  by  these  deputies,  are  chiefly  neg- 
ative in  their  character.  He  is  not  the 
Christ ;  he  is  not  Elijah  risen  from  the  dead , 
neither  is  he  that  prophet,  by  whom,  as  they 
imagined,  Elijah  was  to  be  accompanied  ;  who 

*  John  i.  29-51. 


208  The  Fiest  Disciples. 

he  is  he  would  not  say,  however  pointedly  in- 
terrogated. But  what  he  is,  he  so  far  informs 
them  as  to  quote  and  apply  to  himself  the 
passage  from  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah,  which 
spake  of  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness, 
"  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  his 
paths  straight."  Challenged  as  to  his  right  to 
baptize,  if  he  is  not  that  Christ,  nor  Elias,  nor 
that  prophet,  John  can  now  speak  as  he  had 
not  been  able  to  do  previously.  Hitherto  he 
had  spoken  indeterminately  of  one  whom  he 
knew  not,  the  greater  than  he,  who  was  to 
come  after  him ;  but  now  the  sign  from 
heaven  had  been  given,  the  Spirit  had  been 
seen  descending  and  abiding  on  Jesus.  From 
the  day  of  his  baptism  Jesus  had  withdrawn 
John  knew  not  whither,  but  now  he  sees  him 
in  the  crowd,  and  says:  "I  baptize  with  wa- 
ter :  but  there  standeth  one  among  you,  whom 
ye  know  not ;  he  it  is,  who,  coming  after  me, 
is  preferred  before  me,  whose  shoe's  latchet  I 
am  not  worthy  to  unloose." 

Having  got  so  little  to  satisfy  them  as  to 
who  the  Baptist  was,  it  does  not  seem  that  the 
deputies  from  Jerusalem  troubled  themsehes 
to  make  any  inquiries  as  to  who  this  other  and 
greater  than  John  was.     Nor  was  it  otherwise 


The  Fikst  Disciples.  209 

with  the  multitude.  Though  the  words  of  the 
Baptist,  so  pubhcly  spoken,  were  such  as  might 
well  awaken  curiosity,  the  day  passed,  and  Je- 
sus remained  unknown,  assuming,  saying,  do- 
ing nothing  by  which  he  could  be  recognized. 
That  John  needed  to  point  him  out  in  order  to 
recognition  confirms  our  belief,  derived  in  the 
first  instance  directly  from  the  narrative  itself, 
that  at  the  baptism  none  but  John  and  Jesus 
heard  the  voice  from  heaven,  or  saw  the  de- 
scending dove.  Had  the  bystanders  seen  and 
heard  these,  among  the  disciples  of  John  there 
would  have  been  some  ready  at  once  to  recog- 
nize Jesus  on  his  return  from  the  desert.  But 
it  is  not  so,  Jesus  remains  hidden,  and  w^ill 
not  with  his  own  hand  lift  the  veil — will  not 
bear  any  witness  of  himself — leaves  it  to 
another  to  do  so. 

But  he  must  not  continue  thus  unknown, — 
that  were  to  frustrate  the  very  end  of  all  John's 
ministry.  The  next  day,  therefore,  as  John 
sees  Jesus  coming  to  him,  whilst  yet  he  is  some 
way  off,  he  points  to  him,  and  sa3's  :  "  Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin 
of  the  world !  This  is  he  of  whom  I  said, 
After  me  cometh  a  man  which  is  preferred  be- 
fore me  ;  for  he  was  before  me.     And  I  knew 


210  The  First  Disciples. 

him  not  :  but  that  he  should  be  made  man- 
ifest to  Israel,  therefore  am  I  come  baptizing 
with  water."  "  I  saw  the  Spirit  descending 
from  heaven  like  a  dove,  and  it  abode  upon 
him.  And  I  knew  him  not :  but  he  that  sent 
me  to  baptize  with  water,  the  same  said  unto 
me,  Upon  whom  thou  shalt  see  the  Spirit  de- 
scending, and  remaining  on  him,  the  same  is 
he  which  baptizeth  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  And 
I  saw,  and  bare  record  that  this  is  the  Son  of 
God." 

John's  first  public  official  testimony  to  Christ 
was,  as  it  seems  to  me,  particularly  remarkable, 
as  containing  no  reference  whatever  to  that 
character  or  office  in  which  the  mass  of  the 
Jewish  people  might  have  been  willing  enough 
to  recognize  him,  but  confined  to  those  two 
attributes  of  his  person  and  work  which  they 
so  resolutely  rejected.  There  is  no  mention 
here  of  Jesus  as  Messiah,  the  Prince,  the  King 
of  Israel.  The  record  that  John  bears  of  him 
is,  that  he  is  the  Son  of  God,  the  Lamb  of  God. 
He  had  lately  heard  the  voice  from  heaven  say- 
ing :  "  Thou  art  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I 
am  well  pleased."  In  giving  him  then  this 
title,  in  calling  him  the  Son  of  God,  John  was 
but  re-echoing,  as  it  were,  the  testimony  of  the 


The  Fiest  DiscirLES.  211 

Father.  Taught  thus  to  use  and  to  apply  it,  it 
may  be  fairly  questioned,  whether  the  Baptist 
in  his  first  employment  of  it  entered  into  the 
full  simificance  of  the  term,  as  declarative  ot 
Christ's  unity  of  nature  with  the  Father.  That 
in  its  highest,  its  only  true  sense  indeed,  it  did 
carry  with  it  such  a  meaning,  and  was  under- 
stood to  do  so  by  those  who  knew  best  how  to 
interpret  it,  appears  in  many  a  strikhig  passage 
of  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  most  conspicuously  of 
all,  in  his  trial  and  condemnation  before  the 
Jewish  Sanhedrim.  It  was  a  title  whose  as- 
sumption by  Jesus  involved,  in  the  apprehen- 
sion of  those  who  regarded  him  but  as  a  man, 
nothing  short  of  blasphemy.  Such  is  the  title 
here  given  to  him  by  the  Baptist.  Whether  he 
fully  understood  it  or  not,  we  can  trace  its 
adoption  and  employment  to  an  obvious  and 
natural  source. 

But  that  other  title,  the  Lamb  of  God,  and 
the  description  annexed  to  it,  "who  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  how  came  the  Bap- 
tist to  apply  these  to  Christ,  and  what  did  he 
mean  by  doing  so  ?  Here  we  cannot  doubt 
that  the  same  inner  and  divine  teaching,  which 
taught  him  in  a  passage  of  Isaiah's  prophecies 
to  see  himself,  taught  him  hi  another  to  see  the 


212  The  Fiest  Disciples. 

Saviour,  and  that  it  was  from  that  passage  in 
which  the  prophet  speaks  of  the  Messiah  as  a 
Lamb  brought  to  the  slaughter,  as  a  sheep 
dumb  before  his  shearers,  that  he  borrowed  the 
title  now  for  the  first  time  bestowed  upon  Jesus. 
From  the  same  passage,  too,  he  learned  that 
the  Anointed  of  the  Lord  was  to  be  **  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  to  be  bruised  for  our 
iniquities,  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was 
to  be  upon  him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  to 
be  healed."  Here  in  Jesus,  John  sees  the 
greater  than  himself  whose  way  he  was  to  pre- 
pare before  him,  but  that  way  he  sees  to  be 
one  leading  him  to  suffering  and  to  death  ;  his 
perhaps  the  only  Jewish  eye  at  that  moment 
opened  to  discern  the  truth  that  it  was  through 
this  suffering  and  this  death  that  the  spiritual 
victories  of  the  great  King  were  to  be  achieved, 
that  it  was  upon  them  that  his  spiritual  king- 
dom was  to  have  its  broad  and  deep  founda- 
tions laid.  John's  baptism  had  hitherto  been 
one  of  repentance  for  the  remission  of  sins. 
This  remission  had  been  held  out  in  pros- 
pect as  the  end  to  which  repentance  was 
to  conduct ;  but  all  about  its  source,  its  fullness, 
its  certainty  had  been  obscure, — obscure  per- 
haps to  John's  own  eyes,  obscure  at  least  in  the 


The  First  Disciples.  213 

manner  of  his  speaking  about  it ;  but  now  he 
sees  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  sutlering,  dying 
Jesus,  taking  away  by  bearing  it  the  sin  of  the 
world, — not  taking  away  by  subduing  it  the 
sinfulness  of  the  world,  that  John  could  not 
have  meant,  this  Jesus  has  not  done, — but  tak- 
mg  the  world's  sin  away  by  taking  it  on  him- 
self, and  expiring  beneath  its  load,  making  the 
great  atoning  sacrifice,  fulfilling  all  the  types 
of  the  Jewish  ceremonial,  all  that  the  paschal 
lamb,  all  that  the  lamb  of  the  morning  and 
evening  sacrifice  had  been  typifying. 

In  the  two  declarations  then  of  John,  "  This 
is  the  Son  of  God,"  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God, 
who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  you 
have  in  a  form  as  distinct,  as  short  and  com- 
pendious as  it  is  anywhere  else  to  be  found,-  - 
the  gospel  of  the  kingdom.  The  divine  nature 
of  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  the  completeness  and 
efficacy  of  the  shedding  of  his  blood,  of  the 
offering  up  of  himself  for  the  remission  of  sins, 
are  they  not  here  very  simply  and  plainly  set 
forth  ?  We  are  not  asked  to  believe  that  the 
Baptist  himself  understood  his  own  testimony 
to  Christ,  as  with  the  light  thrown  on  it  by  the 
Epistles,  and  especially  in  this  instance,  by  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  we  now  understp.nd  it ; 


214  The  Fikst  Disciples. 

but  assuredly  he  understood  so  much  of  it  as 
that  he  himself  saw  in  Christ,  and  desired  that 
others  should  see  in  him,  the  heaven-laid  chan- 
nel, opened  up  through  his  life  and  death,  of 
that  Divine  mercy  which  covereth  all  the  trans- 
gressions of  every  penitent  believing  soul. 

How  interesting  to  hear  this  gospel  of  the 
grace  of  God  preached  so  early,  so  simply,  so 
earnestly,  so  believingly  by  him  whose  office 
in  aU  the  earlier  parts  of  his  ministry  was  so 
purely  moral,  a  call  simply  to  repentance,  to 
acts  and  deeds  of  justice,  mercy,  truth.  But 
this  was  the  issue  to  which  all  those  prepara- 
tory instructions  were  to  conduct.  The  law  in 
the  hands  of  John  was  to  be  a  schoolmaster  to 
guide  at  last  to  Christ ;  and  when  the  time  for 
that  guidance  came,  was  it  not  with  a  sensa- 
tion of  relief,  a  bounding  throb  of  exulting 
satisfaction,  that — conscious  of  how  impotent 
in  themselves  all  his  efforts  were  to  get  men 
to  repent  and  reform,  while  the  pardon  of 
their  sins  was  anxiously  toiled  after  in  the 
midst  of  perplexity  and  doubt,  instead  of  being 
gratefully  and  joj'fully  accepted  as  God's  free 
gift  in  Christ — the  Baptist  proclaimed  to  aU 
around,  "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  shi  of  the  world." 


The  Fiest  Disciples.  215 

Nor  was  he  discouraged  that  his  announce- 
ment met  with  no  response  that  day  from  the 
crowd  around,  that  stih  his  voice  was  as  the 
voice  of  one  crying  in  a  wilderness.  The  many 
who  waited  on  his  ministry,  and  partook  of 
his  baptism,  came  from  curiosity,  acted  on  a 
passing  impulse,  hoped  that  some  new  and 
•better  state  of  things  socially  and  politically 
was  to  be  ushered  in  by  this  strange  child  of 
the  desert, — and  had  no  deeper  wants  to  be 
supplied,  or  spiritual  longings  to  be  satisfied. 
Quite  strange — if  not  unmeaning,  j^et  unwel- 
come— to  their  ears,  this  new  utterance  of  the 
Baptist.  It  was  not  after  the  Lamb  of  God, 
not  after  one  who  was  to  take  away  their  sins, 
that  they  were  seeking.  But  there  were  others 
of  a  different  mould,  partakers  of  the  spirit  of 
Simeon  and  Anna,  waiting  for  the  consolation 
of  Israel,  for  the  coming  of  one  to  whom,  what- 
ever outward  kingdom  he  was  to  set  up,  they 
mainly  looked  as  their  spiritual  Lord  and  King, 
in  the  daj^s  of  whose  kingdom  peace  was  to 
enter  troubled  consciences,  and  there  should 
be  rest  for  wearied  hearts.  The  ej^es  of  these 
waiters  for  the  morning  saw  the  first  streaks 
of  dawn  in  the  ministry  of  the  Baptist,  and 
some  of  them  had  already  enrolled  themselves 


216  The  First  DiscirLES. 

as   his  disciples,  attaching  themselves  perma- 
nently to  his  person. 

The  next  day  after  he  had  given  his  first 
testimony  to  Christ's  lamb-like  and  sacrificial 
character  and  office, — a  testimony  apparently 
so  httle  heeded,  attended  at  least  with  no  out- 
ward and  visible  result, — John  is  standing  with 
two  of  these  disciples  by  his  side.  He  will  re- 
peat to  them  the  testimony  of  yesterday  ;  they 
had  heard  it  already,  but  he  will  try  whether 
it  will  not  have  another  and  more  powerful 
effect  when  given  not  promiscuously  to  a  gen- 
eral audience,  but  specifically  to  these  two. 
Looking  upon  Jesus  as  he  walked,  he  directed 
their  attention  to  him,  by  simply  saying  once 
again,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !" — leaving 
it  to  their  memory  to  supply  all  about  him 
which  in  the  course  of  the  two  preceding  days 
he  had  declared.  Not  now  without  effect. 
Neither  of  these  two  men  may  know  as  yet  in 
what  sense  he  is  the  Lamb  of  God,  nor  how 
by  him  their  sin  is  to  be  taken  away  ;  but  both 
have  felt  their  need  of  some  one  willing  and 
able  to  guide  their  agitated  hearts  to  a  secure 
haven  of  rest,  and  they  hope  to  find  in  him 
thus  pointed  out  the  one  they  need.  They 
follow  him.     John  restrains  them  not ;  it  is  as 


The  Fiest  Disciples.  217 

he  would  wish,  Wilhngly,  gladly,  he  sees 
them  part  from  him  to  follow  this  new  Master. 
He  knows  that  they  are  putting  themselves 
mider  a  better,  higher  guidance  than  any  which 
he  can  give.  But  who  are  these  two  men  ? 
One  of  them  is  Andrew,  better  known  to  us 
by  his  brotherhood  to  Simon.  The  other  re- 
reals  himself  by  the  very  manner  in  which  he 
draws  the  veil  over  his  own  name.  He  would 
not  name  himself,  and  by  that  very  modesty 
which  he  displays  he  stands  revealed.  It  is  no 
other  than  that  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved  ;  no 
other  than  the  writer  of  this  Gospel,  upon 
whose  memory  those  days  of  his  first  acquaint-. 
3,nce  with  Jesus  had  fixed  themselves  in  the 
exact  succession  of  their  incidents  so  indelibly, 
that  though  he  writes  his  narrative  at  least 
forty  years  after  the  death  of  Christ,  he  writes 
not  only  as  an  eye-witness,  but  as  one  who  can 
tell  day  after  day  what  happened,  and  no  doubt 
the  day  was  memorable  to  him,  and  the  very 
hour  of  that  day,  on  which  he  left  the  Bap- 
tist's side  to  join  himself  to  Jesus. 

John  and  Andrew  follow  Jesus,  We  won- 
der which  of  the  two  it  was  that  made  the  first 
movement  towards  him.  Let  us  believe  it  to 
have  been   John,   that   we   may   cherish  the 


218  The  FmsT  Disciples. 

thought  that  he  was  the  first  to  follow  as  he 
was  the  last  to  leave.  He  was  one  at  least  of 
the  first  two  men  who  became  followers  of  the 
Lamb  ;  and  that  because  of  their  having  heard 
him  described  as  the  Lamb  of  God.  When 
this  first  incident  in  his  own  connexion  with 
Jesus  is  considered,  need  we  wonder  that  this 
epithet  "  the  Lamb'^  became  so  favorite  a  one 
with  John  ;  that  it  is  in  his  writings,  and  in 
them  alone  of  all  the  writings  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, that  it  is  to  be  found,  occurring  nearly 
thirty  times  in  the  book  of  the  Apocalypse. 

The  two  disciples  follow  Jesus,  silently,  re- 
spectfully, admiringly — anxious  to  address  him, 
yet  unwilling  to  obtrude.  He  relieves  them 
from  their  embarrassment.  The  instinct  of 
that  love  which  is  already  drawing  them  to 
him,  tells  him  that  he  is  being  followed  for  the 
first  time  by  human  footsteps,  answering  to 
warm-beating  anxious  human  hearts.  He  turns 
and  says  to  them,  "  What  seek  ye?"'  a  vague  and 
general  question,  which  left  it  open  to  them  to 
give  any  answer  that  they  pleased,  to  connect 
their  movement  with  him  or  not.  But  their 
true  hearts  speak  out.  It  is  not  any  short  and 
hurried  converse  by  the  way  that  will  satisfy 
their  ardent  longings.     They  would  have  hours 


The  First  Disciples.  21S 

with  him,  days  with  him,  alone  in  the  seclusion 
of  his  home.  "Rabbi,'' — they  say  to  him,  the 
first  time  doubtless  that  Jesus  was  ever  so  ad- 
dressed— "  where  dwellest  thou  ?  He  saith  to 
them,  Come  and  see  ;  and  they  came  and  saw 
where  he  dwelt,  and  abode  with  hun  that  day, 
for  it  was  about  the  tenth  hour."  If,  in  his 
Gospel,  John  numbers  the  hours  of  the  day 
according  to  the  Jewish  method  of  computa- 
tion, then  it  must  have  been  late  in  the  after- 
noon, at  four  o'clock,  having  but  two  hours  of 
that  day  to  run,  that  Christ's  invitation  was 
given  and  accepted.  "We  incline  to  believe, 
however,  that  John  follows  not  the  Jewish  but 
the  Roman  method  of  counting,  and  if  so,  then 
it  was  in  the  forenoon  at  ten  o'clock  that  the 
two  disciples  accompanied  our  Lord.  And  we 
are  the  rather  induced  to  believe  so,  as  it  gives 
room  for  the  other  mcident,  the  bringing  of 
Simon  to  Jesus,  to  happen  during  the  same 
day,  which,  from  the  specific  and  journal-like 
character  of  this  part  of  John's  narrative,  we 
can  scarcely  help  conceiving  that  it  did. 

But  where  and  whose  was  the  abode  to 
which  Jesus  conducted  John  and  Andrew, 
and  how  were  their  hours  employed  ?  It 
could  only  have  been  some  house  which  the 


220  The  First  Disciples. 

hospitality  of  strangers  'had  opened  for  a  few 
days'  residence,  to  one  whom  they  knew  not, 
and  over  all  the  intercourse  that  took  place 
beneath  its  roof  the  veil  is  drawn.  It  is  the 
earliest  instance  this  of  that  studied  reserve  as 
to  all  the  minuter  details  of  Christ's  daily  life 
and  conversation  upon  which  we  may  have 
afterwards  to  offer  some  remarks.  John  has 
not  yet  learned  to  lay  his  head  on  that  Mas- 
ter's bosom,  but  aheady  he  is  sitting  at  his 
feet.  And  there  for  all  day  long,  and  on  into 
the  quiet  watches  of  the  night,  would  he  sit 
drinking  in  our  Lord's  first  opening  of  his 
great  message  of  mercy  from  the  Father.  An- 
drew has  something  of  the  restless  active  spirit 
of  his  brother  in  him,  and  so  no  sooner  has  he 
himself  attained  a  sure  conviction  that  this  is 
indeed  the  Christ  whom  he  has  found,  than  he 
hurries  out  to  seek  his  own  brother  Simon,  and 
bring  him  to  Jesus.  We  should  have  liked 
exceedingly  to  have  been  present  at  that  mter- 
view,  to  have  stood  by  as  Jesus  for  the  first 
time  looked  at  Simon,  and  Simon  for  the  first 
time  fixed  his  eye  on  Jesus.  The  Lord  looks 
upon  Simon  and  sees  all  he  is,  and  all  that  he 
is  yet  to  be.  His  great  confession,  his  three 
denials,  his  bitter  repentance,  his   restoration, 


The  First  Disciples.  221 

the  great  services  rendered,  the  death  Uke  that 
of  his  Master,  he  is  to  die,  all  are  present  tc 
the  thoughts  of  Jesus  as  he  looks.  "  Thou  art 
Simon,"  he  says  at  once  to  him,  as  if  he  had 
known  him  from  his  youth — "  Simon  the  son 
of  Jona."  This  word  Jona,  in  Hebrew,  means 
a  dove,  and  it  has  been  thought,  fancifully  per- 
haps, that  it  was  with  a  sidelong  reference  to 
the  place  of  the  dove's  usual  resort  that  Jesus 
said :  *'  Thou  art  Simon  the  son  of  the  dove, 
which  seeks  shelter  in  the  rock  ;  thou  shalt  be 
called  Cephas,  shalt  be  the  rock  for  the  dove  to 
shelter  in."  On  an  after  occasion  Jesus  ex- 
plained more  fully  why  it  was  that  this  new 
name  of  Peter,  the  Rock,  was  bestowed.  Here 
we  have  nothing  but  the  simple  fact  before  us, 
that  it  was  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  two,  and 
before  any  converse  whatever  took  place  be- 
tween them,  that  the  change  of  name  was  an- 
nounced ;  with  what  effect  on  Peter  we  are 
left  to  guess — his  very  silence,  a  silence  rather 
strange  to  him,  the  only  thing  to  tell  us  how 
deep  was  the  impression  made  by  this  first  in- 
terview with  Christ. 

The  next  day,  the  fifth  from  that  on  which 
this  chronicling  of  the  days  begins,  Jesus  goes 
forth  on  his  return  to  Galilee,  finds  Philip  by  the 


222  The  Fuist  Disciples. 

way,  and  saitli  to  him,  "Follow  me."  Pliilip 
was  of  Bethsaida.  Bethsaida  lay  at  the  north- 
ern extremity  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  not  on  the 
line  of  Christ's  route  from  Bethabara  to  Naza- 
reth or  Cana.  We  infer  from  this  circumstance, 
that,  like  John,  Andrew,  and  Peter,  Philip  had 
left  his  home  to  attend  on  the  ministry  of  the 
Baptist.  On  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  or  after- 
wards from  one  or  other  of  his  Galilean  coun- 
trymen, who  had  already  joined  themselves  to 
Christ,  he  had  learned  the  particulars  of  his 
earlier  earthly  history.  Any  difficulty  that  he 
might  himself  have  had  in  recognizhig  the  Mes- 
siahship  of  one  so  born  and  educated,  was  soon 
got  over,  the  wonder  at  last  enhancing  the 
faith.  Finding  Nathanael,  Philip  said  to  him  : 
"We  have  found  him  of  whom  Moses  in  the 
law  and  the  prophets  did  write,  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, the  son  of  Joseph,"  It  was  a  very  natural 
reply  for  one  who  lived  so  near  to  Nazareth, 
and  knew  how  insignificant  a  place  it  was,  to 
say:  "Can  there  any  good  thing,  any  such 
good  thing,  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? "  Come 
and  see,  was  Philip's  answer.  It  proved  the 
very  simplicity  and  docility  of  Nathanael'a 
nature,  that  he  did  at  once  go  to  see.  Per- 
haps, however,  his  recent  exercises  had  pre- 


The  Fiest  Disciples.  223 

pared  him  for  the  movement.  Before  Phihp 
called  hhn,  he  had  been  under  the  fig-tree,  the 
chosen  place  for  meditation  and  prayer  with  the 
devout  of  Israel.  There  had  he  been  ponder- 
ing hi  his  heart,  wondering  when  the  Hope  of 
Israel  was  to  come,  and  praying  that  it  might 
be  soon,  when  a  friend  comes  and  tells  him 
that  the  very  one  that  he  has  been  praying  for 
has  appeared.  With  willing  spirit  he  accompa- 
nies his  friend.  Before,  however,  he  gets  close 
to  him,  Jesus  says,  Behold  an  IsraeUte  indeed, 
in  whom  is  no  guile  !  How  much  of  that  very 
guileless  spirit  which  we  have  learned  to  call 
by  his  name  is  there  in  Nathanael's  answer ! 
Without  thinking  that  he  is  in  fact  accepting 
Christ's  description  of  him  as  true,  and  so  expos- 
ing himself  to  the  charge  of  no  small  amount  of 
arrogance,  disproving  in  fiict  that  charge  by 
the  very  blindness  that  he  shows  to  the  expres- 
sion of  it,  he  says,  "  Whence  knowest  thou  me?" 
Our  Lord's  reply,  "  Before  that  Philip  called 
thee,  when  thou  wast  under  the  fig-tree  I  saw 
thee,"  we  may  regard  as  carrying  more  with  it 
to  the  conscience  and  heart  of  Nathanael  than 
the  mere  proof  that  Christ's  eye  saw  what  n( 
human  eye,  placed  as  he  was  at  the  time,  could 
have  seen,  but  that  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  lay 


224  The  First  Disciples. 

open  tc  him  with  whom  he  had  now  to  do.  Na- 
thanael  comes  with  doubtnig  mind,  but  a  guile- 
less heart  ;  and  so  now,  without  dealing  with  it 
intellectually,  the  doubt  is  scattered  by  our 
Lord's  quick  glance  penetrating  into  his  inner 
spirit,  and  an  instant  and  sure  faith  is  at  once 
planted  in  Nathanael's  breast. 

I  am  apt  to  think,  from  the  very  form  of  Na- 
thanael's  answer,  from  the  occurrence  in  it  of  a 
phrase  that  does  not  seem  to  have  been  a  Jewish 
synonym  for  the  Messiah,  that  Nathanael  too 
had  been  at  the  Jordan,  and  had  heard  there  the 
testimony  that  John  had  borne  to  Jesus.  Rabbi, 
he  says,  Thou  art  what  I  have  lately  heard  thee 
called,  and  wondered  at  them  calling  thee, — 
"Thou  art  the  Son  of  God,  thou  art  the  King 
of  Israel."  There  was  something  so  fresh,  so 
fervent,  so  full-hearted  in  the  words,  they  fell 
so  pleasantly  on  the  ear  of  Jesus,  that  a  bright 
vision  rose  before  his  eye  of  the  richer  things 
that  were  yet  in  store  for  all  that  believed  on 
him.  First,  he  says  to  Nathanael  individually, 
because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the 
£g-tree,  believest  thou  ?  thou  shalt  see  greater 
things  than  these  ; — and  then  looking  on  the 
others,  whilst  still  addressing  himself  to  him,  he 
adds  : — Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Here- 


The  Fiest  Disciples.  225 

after,  or  rather  from  this  time  forward,  ye  shall 
see  heaven  open,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascend- 
ing and  descending  upon  the  Son  of  Man. 
You  have  heard,  that  a  few  weeks  ago,  ( n  the 
banks  of  the  river,  the  heavens  opened  for  a 
moment  above  my  head,  and  the  Spirit  was 
seen  coming  down  hke  a  dove  upon  me.  That 
was  but  a  sign.  Beheve  what  that  sign  was 
meant  to  confirm  ;  beheve  in  me  as  the  Lamb 
of  God,  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  the  baptizer 
with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  your  eye  of  faith 
shall  be  quickened,  and  you  shall  see  those 
heavens  standing  continually  open  above  my 
head, — opened  by  me  for  you  ;  and  the  angels 
of  God, — all  beings  and  things  that  carry  on  the 
blessed  ministry  of  reconciliation  between  earth 
and  heaven,  between  the  souls  of  believers  below 
and  the  heavenly  Father  above, — going  up  and 
bringing  blessings  innumerable  down,  ascending 
and  descending  upon  the  Son  of  Man.  Son  of 
God, — my  Father  called  me  so  at  my  baptism, 
the  devil  tempted  me  as  such  in  the  desert,  the 
Baptist  gave  me  that  name  at  Bethabara,  and 
thou,  Nathanael,  hast  bestowed  it  upon  me  now 
once  again  ;  but  the  name  that  I  now  like  best, 
and  shall  oftenest  call  myself,  is  that  of  the  Son 
of  Man  ;  and  yet  I  am  both,  and  in  being  both 


226  The  Fiest  Disciples. 

truly  and  eternally  fulfill  the  dream  of  Bethel. 
It  was  but  in  a  dream  that  your  father  Jacob 
saw  that  ladder  set  up  on  earth,  whose  top 
reached  to  heaven,  up  and  down  which  the 
angels  were  ever  moving.  It  shall  be  in  no 
dream  of  the  night,  but  in  the  clearest  vision 
of  the  day, — in  the  hours  when  the  things  of 
the  unseen  world  shall  stand  most  truly  and 
vividly  revealed, — you  shall  see  in  me  that  lad- 
der of  all  gracious  communication  between 
earth  and  heaven,  my  humanity  fixing  firmly 
the  one  end  of  that  ladder  on  earth,  hi  my 
divinity  the  other  end  of  that  ladder  lost  amid 
the  splendors  of  the  throne. 

At  first  sight  the  narrative  of  these  five  days 
after  the  temptation,  which  we  have  thus  fol- 
lowed to  its  close,  has  but  little  to  attract.  It 
recounts  what  many  might  regard  as  the  com- 
paratively insignificant  fact  of  the  attachment 
of  five  men — all  of  them  Galileans,  none  of 
them  of  any  note  or  rank  among  the  people — 
to  Christ.  But  of  these  five  men  four  after- 
wards became  apostles  (aU  of  them,  indeed,  if, 
as  is  believed  by  many  of  our  best  critics,  Na- 
thanael  and  Bartholomew  were  the  same  per- 
son); and  two  of  them,  Peter  and  John,  are 
linked  together  in  the  everlasting  remembrance 


The  Fiest  Disciples.  227 

of  that  Church  which  they  helped  to  found. 
Had  the  Baptist's  ministry  done  nothing  more 
than  prepare  those  five  men  for  the  reception 
of  the  Messiah,  and  hand  them  over  so  pre- 
pared to  Jesus,  to  become  the  first  apostles  of 
the  faith,  it  had  not  been  in  vain.  These  five 
men  were  the  first  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  in  the 
narrative  of  their  becoming  so  we  have  the  his- 
tory of  the  infancy  of  the  Church  of  the  living 
God,  that  great  community  of  the  saints,  that 
growing  and  goodly  company,  swelling  out  to 
a  multitude  that  no  man  can  number,  out  of 
every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people,  and 
nation.  If  there  be  any  interest  in  tracing  the 
great  river  that  bears  at  last  on  its  broad 
bosom  the  vessels  of  many  lands,  to  some  little 
bubbling  fountain  up  among  the  hills  ;  if  there 
be  any  interest  in  tracing  the  great  monarchy 
whose  power  overshadowed  the  earth,  to  the 
erection  of  a  little  organized  community  among 
the  Sabine  hills  ;  if  the  traveller  regards  with 
wonder  the  little  gushing  stream,  or  the  his- 
torian, the  first  weak  beginnings  of  the  Roman 
commonwealth  ;  then  may  the  same  emotion 
be  permitted  to  the  Christian  as  he  reads  the 
page  that  tells  of  the  first  foundations  being 
laid  of  a  spiritual  kingdom,  which  is  to  outlive 


228  The  Fiest  Disciples. 

all  the  kingdoms  of  this  earth,  and  abide  in  its 
glory  for  ever. 

Still  another  interest  attaches  to  the  narrative 
now  before  us.  It  tells  us  of  the  variety  of 
agencies  employed  in  bringing  the  first  of  his 
disciples  to  Christ.  Two  of  these  five  men 
acted  on  the  promptings  of  the  Baptist,  one  of 
them  on  the  direct  call  or  summons  of  our  Lord 
himself;  one  at  the  instance  of  a  brother,  one 
on  the  urgency  of  a  friend.  It  would  be  foolish 
to  take  these  cases  of  adherence  to  the  Chris- 
tian cause  as  typical  or  representative  of  the 
numbers  brought  respectively  to  Christ  by  the 
voice  of  the  preacher,  the  word  of  Christ  him- 
self, and  the  agency  of  relative  or  acquaintance  ; 
but  we  cannot  go  wrong  in  regarding  this  va- 
riety of  agency  within  so  narrow  limits,  as 
warranting  all  means  and  methods  by  which 
any  can  be  won  to  a  true  faith  in  Christ. 
Whatever  these  means  and  methods  may  be, 
in  order  to  be  effectual  they  must  finally  resolve 
themselves  into  direct  individual  address.  It 
was  in  this  way  the  first  five  disciples  were 
gathered  in.  By  John  speaking  to  two,  Je- 
sus to  one,  Andrew  to  one,  Philip  to  one.  It 
is  the  same  species  of  agency  similarly  em- 
ployed  which   God  has   always    most  richly 


The  Fikst  Disciples.  229 

blessed  ;  the  direct,  earnest,  loving  appeal  of 
one  man  to  his  acquaintance,  relative,  or  friend. 
How  many  are  there  among  us  who  have  been 
engaged  for  years  either  in  supporting  by  our 
liberality,  or  aiding  by  our  actual  service  one 
or  other  of  those  societies  whose  object  is  to 
spread  Christianity,  but  who  may  seldom  if 
ever  have  endeavored,  by  direct  and  personal 
addr3ss,  to  influence  one  human  soul  for  its 
spiritual  and  eternal  good  !  Not  till  more  of 
the  spirit  of  John  and  Jesus,  of  Andrew  and 
Philip,  as  exhibited  in  this  passage,  descend 
upon  us,  shall  we  rightly  acquit  ourselves 
of  our  duty  as  followers  of  the  Lamb. 

But  in  my  mind  the  chief  interest  of  the  pas- 
sage lies  in  the  conduct  of  our  Lord  himself 
Those  five  days  were  not  only  the  birth-time 
of  the  Church,  they  were  the  beginning  of 
Christ's  public  ministry,  and  how  does  that 
ministry  open  ?  Silently,  gently,  unostenta- 
tiously ;  no  public  appearances,  no  great  works 
done,  no  new  instrumentality  employed  ;  by 
taking  two  men  to  live  with  him  for  a  day,  by 
asking  another  to  follow  him,  by  dealing 
wisely  and  tenderly  and  encouragingly  with 
two  others  who  are  brought  to  him, — so  enters 
the   Lord  upon  the  earthly   task   assigned  to 


230  The  First  Disciples. 

him.  Would  any  one  sitting  down  to  devise  a 
career  for  the  Son  of  God  descending  upon  our 
earth,  to  work  out  the  salvation  of  our  race, 
have  assigned  such  an  opening  to  his  ministry, 
and  yet  could  anything  have  been  more  ap- 
propriate to  him  who  came  not  to  be  minis- 
tered unto  but  to  minister,  than  this  turning 
away  from  being  ministered  unto  by  the  an- 
gels in  the  desert,  to  the  rendering  of  those 
kindly  and  all-important  services  to  John  and 
Andrew  and  Peter,  and  Philip  and  Nathanael  ? 


XI. 

THE   FIRST    MIRACLE.* 

AND  the  third  day  there  was  a  marriage  m 
Cana  of  Galilee.  Looking  back  to  the 
preceding  narrative,  you  observe  that  from  the 
time  of  the  arrival  at  Bethabara  of  the  depu- 
tation from  Jerusalem  sent  to  inquire  into  the 
Baptist's  character  and  claims,  an  exact  note 
of  the  time  is  kept  in  recording  the  incidents 
which  followed.  "The  next  day,"  z.  e.,  the 
first  after  that  of  the  appearance  of  the  depu- 
tation, John  sees  Jesus  coming  unto  him,  and 
points  him  out  as  the  "  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  "  Again, 
the  next  day  after,"  standing  in  company  with 
two  of  his  disciples,  John  repeats  the  testimony, 
and  the  two  disciples  followed  Jesus  ;  one  of 
them,  Andrew,  going  and   bringing   his    own 

*  John  il  1-12. 


232  The  First  Miracle. 

brother  Simon  ;  the  other,  John,  sitting  at  his 
new  Master's  feet.  "  The  day  following,"  Je- 
sus, setting  out  on  his  return  to  Galilee,  findeth 
Philip,  Philip  findeth  Nathanael,  and  so,  ac- 
companied by  these  five  (Andrew,  John,  Peter, 
Philip,  and  Nathanael),  Jesus  proceeds  upon 
his  way  back  to  his  home.  Occurring  in  a 
narrative  like  this,  where  the  regular  succes- 
sion of  events  is  so  accurately  chronicled,  we 
naturally,  in  coming  to  the  expression,  "  the 
third  day,"  interpret  it  as  meaning  the  third 
day  after  the  one  that  had  immediately  before 
been  spoken  of,  that  is,  the  one  of  Christ's  de- 
parture from  the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  Two 
days'  easy  travel  carry  him  and  his  new  atten- 
dants to  Nazareth,  but  there  is  no  one  there  to 
receive  them.  The  mother  of  Jesus  and  his 
brethren  are  at  Cana,  a  village  lying  a  few 
miles  farther  to  the  north.  Thither  they  fol- 
low them,  and  find  that  a  marriage  is  being 
celebrated  there,  to  the  feast  connected  with 
which  Jesus  and  his  five  disciples  are  invited. 
One  of  the  five,  Nathanael,  belonged  to  Cana, 
and  might  have  received  the  invitation  on  his 
own  account  as  an  acquaintance  of  the  family 
in  whose  house  the  marriage- feast  was  held. 
But  the  others  were  strangers,  only  known  to 


The  Fiest  Mieacle.  233 

that  family  as  having  accompanied  Jesus  for 
the  last  few  days,— their  tie  of  discipleship  to 
him   quite  a  receut  one,  and  as  yet  scarcely 
recognized  by    others.     That   on   his    account 
alone,  and  in  consequence  of  a  connexion  with 
him  of  such  a  kind,  they  should  have  been  at 
once  asked  to  be  present  at  an  entertainment 
to  which  friends  and  relatives  only  were  ordi- 
narily invited,  would  seem  to  indicate  some  fa- 
mihar   bond  between  the  family  at  Nazareth 
and    the  one  in  which  this   marriage    occurs. 
The  idea  of  some  such  relationship  is  supported 
by  the  freedom  which  Mary  appears  to  exer- 
cise, speaking  to  the  servants  not  hke  a  stran- 
ger, but  as  one  famihar  in  the  dwelling.     Be- 
sides, if  Simon,  called  the  Canaanite,  was  called 
so  because  of  his  connexion  with  the  village  of 
Can  a,    his  father  Alphasus   or    Cleophas,  who 
was  married  to  a  sister  of  Christ's  mother,  may 
have  resided  there,  and  it  may  have  been  m 
his  family  that  this  marriage  occurred.     Could 
we  but  be  sure  of  this, — which  certainly  is  pro- 
bable, and  which  early  tradition  affirms, — the 
circumstance  that  when  Jesus  seated  himself  at 
this   marriage-feast  he   sat   down    at   a   table 
around  which  mother,  and  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  uncle  and  aunt,  and  cousins  of  his  own 


234:  The  Fiest  Miracle. 

now  gathered,  it  would  give  a  peculiarly  do 
mestic  character  to  the  scene,  and  throw  a  new 
charm  and  interest  around  the  miracle  which 
was  wrought  at  it.  At  any  rate,  we  may 
assume  that  it  was  in  a  family  connected  by 
some  close  ties,  whether  of  acquaintance  or  re- 
lationship with  that  of  Jesus,  that  the  marriage- 
feast  was  kept.  * 

"  And  when  they  wanted  wine,  the  mother 
of  Jesus  saith  to  him.  They  have  no  wine." 
The  wine,  provided  only  for  the  original  num- 
ber of  guests,  began  to  fail.  Mary,  evidently 
watching  with  a  kind  and  womanly  interest  the 
progress  of  the  feast,  and  rightly  ascribing  the 
threatened  exigency  to  the  unexpected  arrival 
of  her  son  and  his  companions,  becomes  doubly 
anxious  to  shield  a  family  in  which  she  took 
such  an  interest  from  the  painful  feeling  of  hav- 
ing failed  in  the  duties  of  hospitality.  But  why 
did  Mary,  seeing  what  she  did,  and  feehng  as 
she  did,  go  to  Jesus  and  say  to  him,  "  They 
have  no  wine?"  That  she  expected  him  in 
some  way  to  interfere  is  evident ;  but  what 
ground  had  she  to  expect  that  he  would  do  so 
in  any  such  manner  as  he  did  ?  She  had  never 
seen  him  work  a  miracle  before.  She  had  no 
reason,  from  past  experience,  to  believe  that  ho 


The  Fiest  Mibacle.  235 

would  or  could  make  wine  at  will,  or  that  by 
his  word  of  power  he  would  supply  the  defi- 
ciency. She  had,  however,  been  laying  up  in 
her  heart,  and  for  thirty  years  revolving  all 
that  had  been  told  her  at  the  beginning  about 
her  son.  She  had  none  at  Nazareth  but  Joseph 
to  speak  to  ;  none  but  he  who  woald  have  be- 
lieved her  had  she  spoken.  Joseph  now  is 
dead,  and  she  is  left  to  nurse  the  swelling  hope 
in  her  solitary  breast.  At  last  the  period  comes, 
when  rumors  of  the  great  preacher  of  repen- 
tance who  has  appeared  in  the  wilderness  oi 
Judea,  and  to  whom  the  whole  country  is  rush- 
ing, spread  over  Galilee.  Her  son  hears  them, 
and  rises  from  his  work,  and  bids  her  adieu  ; 
the  first  time  that  he  has  parted  from  her  since 
she  had  lost  him  in  Jerusalem,  now  eighteen 
years  ago.  What  can  be  his  object  in  leaving 
her,  his  now  widowed  mother  ?  She  learns — 
perhaps  he  himself  tells  her — that  he  goes  with 
other  G-alileans  who  want  to  see  and  hear  the 
new  teacher,  it  may  be  to  enroll  themselves  by 
baptism  as  his  disciples.  She  asks  about  this 
new  teacher.  Can  it  be  that  she  discovers  him 
to  be  no  other  than  the  son  of  her  relative  Ehz- 
abeth,  whose  birth  was  in  so  strange  a  manner 
linked  with  that  of  Jesus  ?     If  so,  into  what  a 


236  The  Fiest  Mieacle. 

tumult   of    expectation   must  she   have   been 
thrown ! 

But  whether  knowing  aught  of  this  or  not, 
now  at  last,  after  a  two  months'  absence,  her 
son  rejoins  her,  strangely  altered  in  his  bear- 
ing ;  attended,  too,  by  those  who,  young  as  he 
is,  hail  him 'as  their  Master,  and  pay  him  all 
possible  respect.  She  scarcely  ventures  to  ask 
him  what  has  happened  in  the  interval  of  his 
absence  ;  but  them  she  fully  questions  ;  and  as 
they  tell  her  that  John  had  publicly  proclaimed 
her  son  to  be  no  other  than  He  whose  coming 
it  was  his  great  object  to  announce ;  had 
pointed  to  him  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  Son 
of  God,  the  Baptizer  with  the  Holy  Ghost ;  as 
they  tell  that  they  had  found  in  him  the  Mes- 
sias,  the  Christ,  of  whom  Moses  in  the  law  and 
the  prophets  di-d  write,  and  that  it  was  as  such 
they  were  now  following  him, — to  what  a  pilch 
of  joyful  expectation  must  she  have  been 
raised  !  Now  at  last  the  day  so  long  looked  for 
has  come.  Men  have  begun  to  see  in  him,  her 
son,  the  Hope  of  Israel.  Soon  all  Israel  shall 
hail  him  as  their  Messiah.  Meanwhile  he  is  here 
among  friends  and  relatives  ;  has  willingly  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  given  to  join  this  marriage- 
feast  J  has  lost  nothing,  as  it  would  seem,  of  all 


The  First  Mieacle.  237 

his  early  kindly  feelings  to  those  around  him. 
What  will  he  think,  what  will  he  do,  if  he  be 
told  that  owing  to  his  presence,  and  that  of  his 
disciples,  a  difficulty  has  arisen,  and  discredit  is 
likely  to  be  thrown  upon  this  family,  which  has 
shown  itself  so  ready  to  gratify  him,  by  asking 
these  strangers  to  share  in  the  festivities  of  the 
occasion  ?     She  thinks,  perhaps,  of  the  cruse  of 
oil,  of  the  barley-loaves  of  the  old  prophets. 
Surely  if  her  son  be  that  great  Prophet  that  is 
to  appear,  he  might  do  something  to  provide 
for  this   unforeseen   emergency  ;  to  meet  this 
want  ;  to  keep  the  heart  of  this  poor,  perhaps, 
but  generous  household  from  being  wounded. 
Bat  what  shall  she  ask  him  to  do  ?  what  shall 
she  suggest?     She  will  leave  that  to  himself. 
She   knows  how  kind   in  heart,  how  wise  in 
counsel  he  is,  and  believes  now  that  his  power 
is  equal  to  his  will.     She  modestly  contents  her- 
self wdth  simply  directing  his  attention  to  the 
fact,  and  saying  to  him,  "  They  have  no  wine." 
It  is  the  very  dehcacy  of  this  approach  and 
address   w^hich    renders    so    remarkable    our 
Lord's    reply,  "  Woman,  what   have  I  to    do 
with   thee  ?"— exactly   the   same   form  of  ex- 
pression which,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  the 
demons,    whom   he   was  about   to   dispossess, 


238  The  Fiest  Mieacle. 

addressed  to  Jesus,  when  they  said  to  him, 
What  have  we  to  do  with  thee  ?  or,  What 
hast  thoii  to  do  with  us,  Jesus,  thou  Son  of 
God  ?  On  their  part,  such  language  imphed 
a  repudiation  of  his  interference  ;  a  denial  of 
and  a  desire  to  resist  his  power  and  authority. 
And  what  can  the  same  form  of  expression 
mean  as  addressed  now  by  Jesus  to  his 
mother  ?  Interpret  it  as  we  may  ;  soften  it  to 
the  uttermost  so  as  to  remove  anything  like 
harshness  ;  still  it  is  the  language  of  resistance 
and  reproof.  There  may  have  been  some 
over-haste  or  impatience  on  Mary's  part  ;  some 
motherly  vanity  mingling  with  her  desire  to 
see  her  son  exert  his  power,  and  reveal  his 
character  before  these  assembled  guests,  which 
required  to  be  gently  checked  ;  but  our  Lord's 
main  object  in  speaking  to  her  as  he  did,  was 
to  teach  Mary  that  the  period  of  his  subjection 
to  her  maternal  authority  had  expired  ;  that 
in  the  new  character  he  had  assumed,  in  that 
new  sphere  of  action  upon  which  he  had  en- 
tered, it  was  not  for  her,  upon  the  ground  sim- 
ply of  her  relationship  to  him,  to  dictate  or 
suggest  what  he  should  do.  There  was  some 
danger  of  her  forgetting  this  ;  of  her  cherishing 
and  acting  on  the  belief  that  he  was  still  to  be 


The  Fiest  Miracle.  239 

her  son,  as  he  had  been  throughout  those 
thh'ty  by-past  years.  It  was  right,  it  was  even 
kind,  that  at  very  outset  she  would  be  guarded 
against  this  danger,  and  saved  the  disappoint- 
ment she  might  have  felt  had  the  limits  of  her 
influence  and  authority  been  left  vague  and 
undefined.  Jesus  would,  therefore,  have  her 
to  know  definitely  and  from  the  beginning  of 
his  ministry,  that  mother  though  she  was  as  to 
his  humanity,  this  gave  her  no  right  to  mterfere 
with  him  as  the  Son  of  the  Highest,  the  Saviour 
of  mankind.  Thus  gently  but  firmly  does  he 
repel  the  bringing  of  her  maternal  relationship 
to  bear  upon  his  Messianic  work  ;  thus  gently 
but  firmly  does  he  assert  and  vindicate  his  per- 
fect independence,  disengaging  himself  from 
this  the  closest  of  earthly  ties,  that  he  may  stand 
free  in  all  things  to  do  only  the  will  of  his 
Father  in  heaven.  This  manner  of  his  conduct 
to  the  mother  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved, 
may  be  regarded  as  the  first  of  those  repeated 
rebukes  which  Jesus  gave  by  anticipation  to 
that  idolatrous  reverence  which  has  carried 
the  human  bond  into  that  spiritual  kingdom  ; 
carried  it  even  into  the  heavenly  places  ;  ex- 
alting Mary  as  the  Queen  of  heaven  ;  seating 
the  crowned  mother  on  a  throne  sometimes  on 


210  The  Fiest  Mikacle. 

a  level  with,  sometimes  above  that  occupied  by 
her  Son,  teaching  us  to  pray  to  her  as  an  equal 
intercessor  with  Christ. 

"  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee  ? 
Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come."  With  him  no 
impatience,  no  undue  haste,  no  hurrying  pre- 
maturely into  action.  He  has  waited  quietly 
those  thirty  years,  without  a  single  trial  of  that 
superhuman  strength  which  lay  in  him,  con- 
tent to  bide  till  the  set  time  came.  And  now 
he  waits,  even  as  to  the  performance  of  his 
first  miracle,  till  the  right  and  foreseen  hour 
for  its  performance  has  arrived.  As  to  this 
act  of  his  power,  and  as  to  every  act  of  it  ;  as 
to  this  incident  of  his  life,  and  as  to  every  in- 
cident of  it — he  could  tell  when  the  hour  had 
not  come,  and  when  it  had.  He  who  at  this 
marriage-feast  could  say  to  Mary,  "  Mine  hour 
is  not  yet  come,"  could  say  to  the  Omniscient 
in  the  upper  chamber  at  Jerusalem,  "  Father, 
the  hour  is  come,  glorify  thy  Son."  Mapped 
out  before  his  foreseeing  eye  in  all  its  times, 
places,  events,  issues,  lay  the  whole  of  his 
earthly  life  and  ministry.  The  perfect  unbro- 
ken unity  of  design  and  action  running 
throughout  the  whole,  proclaims  a  previous 
foresight,  a   premeditated,  well-ordered   plan. 


The  First  Mieacle.  241 

It  has  not  been  so  with  any  of  those  men  who 
have  played  the  greatest  and  most  prominent 
partd  on  the  stage  of  human  history.  Their 
own  confessions,  the  story  of  their  hves,  their 
earher  compared  with  their  later  acts,  all  tell 
us  how  little  they  knew  or  thought  beforehand 
of  what  they  finally  were  to  be  and  do.  In- 
stead of  one  fixed,  uniform  unchanging  scheme 
and  purpose  running  through  and  regulating 
the  whole  life,  in  all  its  lesser  as  well  as  its 
greater  movements,  there  have  been  shiftings 
and  changings  of  place  to  suit  the  shiftings  and 
the  changes  of  circumstance.  Surprisals  here, 
disappointments  there  ;  old  instruments  of  ac- 
tion worn  out  and  thrown  away,  new  ones  in- 
vented and  employed  ;  the  life  made  up  of  a 
motley  array  of  many-colored  incidents,  out  of 
which  have  come  issues  never  dreamt  of  at  the 
beginning.  Was  it  so  with  the  life  that  Jesus 
lived  on  earth?  Ilad  he  been  a  mere  man, 
committing  himself  to  a  great  work  under  the 
guidance  of  a  sublime,  yet  purely  human,  and 
therefore  weak  and  blind  impulse — had  he 
seen  only  so  far  into  the  future  as  the  unaided 
human  eye  could  carry,  how  much  was  there 
in  the  earlier  period  of  his  ministry  to  have 
excited  false  hopes,  how  much  in  the  latter  tc 


242  The  Fiest  Mibacle. 

have  produced  despondency !  But  the  people 
came  in  multitudes  around  him,  and  jou  can 
trace  no  sign  of  extravagant  expectation.  The 
tide  of  popular  favor  ebbs  away  from  him,  and 
you  see  no  token  of  his  giving  up  his  enter- 
prise in  despair.  No  wavering  of  purpose,  no 
change  of  pkm,  no  altering  of  his  course  to  suit 
new  and  obviously  unforeseen  emergencies. 
There  is  progress  :  a  steady  advance  onward 
to  the  final  consummation  of  the  cross  and  the 
burial,  the  resurrection  and  ascension  ;  but  all 
is  consistent,  all  is  harmonious.  The  attempt 
has  been  lately  made,  with  all  the  resources  of 
scholarship  and  all  the  skill  of  genius,  to  detect 
a  discrepancy  of  design  and  expectation  be- 
tween the  opening  and  closing  stages  of  our 
Saviour's  earthly  course.  It  has  failed.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  all  candid  and  intel- 
ligent readers  of  that  life  as  we  have  it  in  the 
Gospels,  whatever  be  their  religious  opinions 
or  prepossessions,  will  acknowledge  that  M.  Re- 
nan's  failure  is  patent  and  complete.  If  so, 
it  leaves  that  life  of  Jesus  Christ  distinguished 
from  all  others  by  a  fixed,  pre-established,  un- 
varying design.* 

*  This  feature  iu  our  Lord's  character  appears  to  have  strongly 
impressed  the  mind  of  Napoleon  I.,  as  appears  from  the  following 
extracts : — 


The  First  Mieacle.  243 

Our  Lord's  answer  to  Mary    was  ill  fitted, 
we  might  imagine,  to  foster  hope,  postponing 


"  In  every  other  life  than  that  of  Christ,  what  imperfections, 
what  inconsistencies  !  Where  is  the  character  that  no  opposition 
is  sufficient  to  overwhehn  ?  Where  is  the  individual  whose  con- 
duct is  never  modified  by  event  or  circumstance,  who  never  yields 
to  the  influences  of  the  time,  never  accoramodates  himself  to  man- 
ners or  passions  that  he  cannot  prevail  to  alter  ? 

"  I  defy  you  to  cite  another  hfe  like  that  of  Christ,  exempt  from 
the  least  vacillation  of  this  kind,  untainted  by  any  such  blots  or 
wavering  purpose.  From  first  to  last  he  is  the  same  ;  always  the 
same,  majestic  and  simple,  infinitely  severe  and  infinitely  gentle  ; 
throughout  a  life  that  may  be  said  to  have  been  lived  vmder  the 
public  eye,  Jesus  never  gives  occasion  to  find  fault  ;  the  prudence 
of  his  conduct  compels  our  admiration  by  its  union  of  force  and 
gentleness.  Alike  in  speech  and  action,  Jei^s  is  enlightened, 
consistent,  and  calm.  Subhmity  is  said  to  be  an  attribute  of 
Divinity  ;  what  name  then  shall  we  give  to  him  in  whose  character 
were  united  every  attribute  of  the  subhme  ? 

"  I  know  men  ;  and  I  tell  j'ou  that  Jesus  is  not  a  man. 

"In  Lycurgus,  Numa,  Confucius,  and  Mahomet,  I  only  see  legis- 
lators who,  having  attained  to  the  first  place  in  the  State,  have 
Bought  the  best  solution  of  the  social  problem  ;  I  see  nothing  in 
them  that  reveals  Divinity  ;  they  themselves  have  not  pitched  their 
claims  so  high. 

"It  is  evident  that  it  is  only  posterity  that  has  deified  the 
world's  first  despots,  — heroes,  the  princes  of  the  nations,  and  the 
founders  of  the  earhest  repubhcs.  For  my  part,  I  see  in  the 
heathen  gods  and  those  great  men,  beings  of  the  same  nature  with 
myself.  Their  intelligence,  after  all,  differs  from  mine  only  in 
form.  They  burst  upon  the  world,  played  a  great  part  in  their 
day,  as  I  have  done  in  mine.  Nothing  in  them  proclaims  divinity  : 
on  the  contrary,  I  see  numerous  resemblances  between  them  and 
me. — common  weaknesses  and  errors.  Their  faculties  are  such 
as  I  myself  possess  ;  there  is  no  difi'erence  save  in  the  use  that  we 
have  made  of  them,  in  accordance  with  the  different  ends  we  had 
in  view,  our  different  countries  and  the  circumstances  of  our  times. 


244  The  First  Miracle. 

apparently  to  an  indefinite  period  any  inter- 
position on  his  part.  And  yet  she  turns  in- 
stantly to  the  servants,  and  says  to  them  : 
"  Whatsoever  he  saith  unto  you,  do  it."  How- 
ever surprised  or  perplexed  she  may  have  been, 
she  appears  as  confident  as  ever  that  he  would 
interpose.  It  may  have  been  her  strong  and 
hopeful  faith  which,  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
couraging reply,  sustained  her  expectation  ; 
or  there  may  have  been  something  in  the  tone 
and  manner  of  her  son,  something  in  the  way 
he  laid  the  emphasis  as  he  pronounced  the 
words.  Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come,  which  con- 

"  It  is  not  BO  with  Christ.  Everything  in  him  amazes  me;  his 
spirit  outreaches  mine,  and  his  will  confounds  me.  Comparison 
is  impossible  between  him  and  any  other  being  in  the  world.  He 
ia  truly  a  being  by  himself :  his  ideas  and  his  sentiments,  the  truth 
that  he  announces,  his  manner  of  convincing,  are  all  beyond  hu- 
manity and  the  natural  order  of  things. 

"  His  birth,  and  the  story  of  his  hfe,  the  profoundness  of  his 
doctrine  which  overturns  all  difficulties ,  and  is  their  most  com- 
plete solution,  his  Gospel,  the  singularity  of  this  mysterious  be- 
ing, his  appearance ,  his  empire,  his  progress  through  all  centu- 
ries and  kingdoms, — all  this  is  to  me  a  prodigy,  an  unfathomable 
mystery,  which  plunges  me  into  a  reverie  from  which  there  is  no 
escape,  a  mystery  which  is  ever  within  my  view,  a  permanent 
mystery  which  I  can  neither  deny  nor  explain. 

' '  I  see  nothing  here  of  man .  Near  as  I  may  approach,  closely 
as  I  may  examine,  all  remains  above  my  comprehension,  great 
with  a  greatness  that  crushes  me  ;  it  is  in  vain  that  I  reflect- -all 
remains  unaccountable." — Sentiments  de  Napoleon  sur  le  Clirin- 
itanisme,  par  k  Chevalier  de  Beautebne. 


The  Fikst  Mieacle.  245 

veyed  to  her  the  impression  that  the  hour  was 
approaching,  was  near, — a  speedy  comphance 
shining  through  the  apparent  refusal.  But 
why  did  she  give  that  order  to  the  servants,  or 
how  could  she  anticipate  that  it  was  through 
their  instrumentality  that  the  approaching 
supply  was  to  be  conveyed?  Without  some 
hint  being  given,  some  word  or  look  of  Jesus 
pointing  in  that  direction,  she  could  scarcely 
have  conjectured  beforehand  what  the  mode  of 
his  action  was  to  be. 

Leaving  the  mystery  which  arises  here  unre- 
solved, as  being  left  without  the  key  to  open 
it,  let  us  look  at  the  simple,  easy,  unostenta- 
tious way  in  which  the  succeeding  miracle  was 
wrought.  There  stand — at  the  entrance,  per- 
haps, of  the  dwelling — six  water-pots  of  stone  ; 
Jesus  saith  to  the  servants,  Fill  the  water-pots 
with  water.  They  do  so,  filling  them  to  the 
brim.  Jesus  saith.  Draw  out  now,  and  bear  to 
the  governor  of  the  feast.  They  do  so  ;  it  is 
not  water,  but  choicest  wine  they  bear.  The 
ruler  of  the  feast  at  once  detects  it  as  better 
wine  than  they  had  previously  been  drinking, 
and  addresses  the  bridegroom.  The  latter 
gives  no  reply,  for  he  does  not  know  whence  or 
how  this  new  supply  of  better  wine  has  come. 


246  The  Fikst  Mieacle. 

As  little  know  the  guests  who  partake  of  it ; 
nor,  perhaps,  till  the  feast  is  over,  and  the  ser- 
vants tell  what  had  been  done,  is  it  known  by 
what  a  miracle  of  power  the  festivities  of  that 
social  board  had  been  sustained.  What  a  veil- 
ing this  of  the  hand  and  power  of  the  operator  ! 
Imagine  only  that  Jesus  had  asked  the  servants, 
while  the  water  was  water  still,  to  draw  it  out 
and  fill  each  goblet, — had  asked  each  guest  to 
lift  up  his  cup  and  taste,  and  see  what  kind  of 
liquid  it  contained, — and  then,  by  a  word  of  his 
power,  had  turned  tlie  crystal  water  into  the 
ruddy  wine.  With  what  gaping  wonder  would 
every  one  have  then  been  filled !  Instead  of 
this,  ordering  it  so  that  what  came  to  the  guests 
appeared  to  come  through  the  ordinary  chan- 
nel, without  word  or  touch,  aught  said  or  done, 
in  obedience  to  an  inward  volition  of  the  Lord, 
the  water  hidden  in  the  vessels  is  changed  in- 
stantaneously into  wine.  There  was  the  sam^ 
dignified  ease  and  simplicity,  the  same  absence 
of  ostentation,  about  all  Christ's  miracles,, 
proper  to  him  who  used  not  a  delegated  but  an 
intrinsic  power. 

Struck  with  the  manner  in  which  Christ  met 
the  domestic  need  and  protected  the  family 
character,  we  must  not  overlook  the  largeness 


The  Eiest  Miracle.  247 

• 
of  the  provision  that  he  made.     At  the  most 

moderate  computation,  the  six  water-pots  must 

have  held  far  more  than  enough  to  meet  the 

requirements  of  the  marriage-feast  ;  enough  of 

wine  for  that  household  for  many  months  to 

come.     In   the    overflowing  generosity    of  his 

kindness,  he    does  so    much  more   than  Mary 

would   have  asked  or    could   have    conceived. 

And  still,  to  all  who  feel  their  need  and  come 

to  hini  to  have  their  spiritual  wants  supplied, 

he  does  exceedingly  abundantly  above  all  that 

they  ask,  and  all  that  they  can  think. 

When  the  governor  of  the  feast  had  tasted 

the  new-made  wine,  he  called  the  bridegroom, 

and  said  to  him,  "  Every  man  at  the  beginning 

doth  set  forth  good  wine  ;  and  when  men  have 

well  drunk,  then  that  which  is  worse  ;  but  thou 

hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now."     He  knew 

not  whence  that  better  wine  had  come ;  he  knew 

not  to  whom  it  was  they  owed  it  ;  he  knew  not 

that,  in   contrasting  as  he  did  the  custom  of 

keeping  the  best  wine  to   the  last,  with  that 

commonly  foUowed  at  marriage-feasts,  he  was 

but  showing  forth,  as  in  a  figure,  the  way  in 

which  the  Spiritual  Bridegroom  acts  to  all  those 

who  are  called  to  the  Marriage  Supper  of  the 

Lamb.     Not  as  the  world  giveth,  gives  Jesus  to 


248  The  First  Miracle. 

• 
his  own.     The  world  gives  its  best  and  richest 

fiz'st.  At  the  board  which  it  spreads  the  viands 
may  not  fail  ;  nay,  may  even  grow  in  number 
and  improve  in  quality,  but  soon  they  pall  on 
the  sated  appetite,  and  the  end  of  the  world's 
feast  is  always  worse  and  less  enjoyable  than  the 
beginning.  Who  has  found  it  so  of  the  pro- 
visions of  a  Saviour's  grace  ;  of  those  quiet, 
soothing,  satisfying  pleasures,  that  true  faith  in 
him  imparts  ?  The  more  of  these  that  any  one 
receives,  the  more  he  enjoys  them.  The  appe- 
tite grows  with  the  food  it  feeds  upon  ;  the 
relish  increases  with  the  appetite  ;  better  and 
better  things  are  stiU  provided,  and  of  each 
new  cup  of  pleasure  put  into  our  hands,  turn- 
ing to  the  heavenly  Provider,  we  may  say, 
Thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine  even  until  now. 
•  This  the  beginning  of  his  miracles,  did  Jesus 
in  Cana  of  Galilee.  The  miracle  lay  in  the  in- 
stantaneous transmutation  of  water  into  wine. 
And  yet  the  water  with  which  those  water- 
pots  were  filled,  and  in  which  this  change  was 
wrought,  might  have  been  drawn  from  the  well 
of  a  vineyard,  and  instead  of  being  poured  into 
these  stone  vessels,  might  have  been  poured  out 
over  the  soil  into  which  the  vine-plants  struck 
their  roots,  and  by  these  roots  might  have  becD 


The  Fikst  Mieacle.  249 

drawn  up  into  the  stem,  and  through  the 
branches  been  distihed  into  the  grapes,  and  out 
of  the  grapes  been  pressed  into  the  vat,  and  in 
that  vat,  have  fermented  into  wine.  And  thus, 
by  the  many  steps  and  secret  processes  of  na- 
ture might  that  water  without  a  miracle,  as  we 
say,  have  been  converted  into  wine.  But  is 
eacli  step  or  stage  of  that  natural  transmuta- 
tion less  wonderful  ?  does  it  show  inferior  wis- 
dom ?  is  it  done  by  a  feebler  power  ?  Just  as 
Httle  can  we  explain  the  process  as  spread  out 
into  multiplied  details  in  the  great  laboratory 
of  nature,  as  when  condensed  into  one  single 
act.  And  just  as  much  should  we  see  the  di- 
vine hand  and  power  in  the  one.  as  in  the  other. 
He  who  sees  God  in  the  one — the  miracle,  and 
not  in  the  other,  the  processes  of  nature — has 
not  the  right  faith  in  God.  If  we  did  not  be- 
lieve that  God  was  operating  throughout,  work- 
ing everywhere  ;  his  will  and  power  the  spring 
and  support  of  every  movement  in  the  material 
creation,  we  should  not  believe  that  he  is  oper- 
ating here  or  there,  in  this  miracle  or  in  that. 
It  is  because  we  believe  in  the  universal  agency 
of  the  livhig  God,  tliat  we  are  prepared  to  be- 
lieve in  that  agency  in  any  singular  form  that 
it  occasionally  may  take.     There  is,  indeed,  a 


250  The  First  Miracue. 

difference  between  a  miracle  and  any  of  the 
ordinary  operations  of  nature  ;  a  difference  not 
in  the  agent,  not  in  the  power,  but  sitnply  in 
the  manner  hi  which  the  power  and  agency  are 
employed.  In  the  one,  the  hand  of  the  Great 
Operator  works  slowly,  uniformly,  doing  the 
same  things  always  in  the  same  way  ;  his  foot- 
steps follow  each  other  so  surely  and  so  .regu- 
larly, that  by  a  delusion  of  the  understanding, 
we  come  to  think  that  the  things  that  follow 
each  other  so  uniformly  are  not  only  naturally 
but  necessarily  linked  to  one  another, — the  one 
by  some  imagined  inherent  power  drawing  the 
other  after  it  ;  needing  no  power  but  their  own 
to  bind  them  together  at  the  first,  or  keep 
them  bound  together  afterwards.  Wherever 
there  is  orderly  succession — and  it  pervades 
the  whole  universe  of  material  things — we  can 
classify  the  different  processes  that  go  on,  and 
so  reach  what  we  call  the  laws  of  nature,  which, 
after  all,  are  but  expressions  of  the  orderly 
manner  in  which  certain  results  are  brought 
about  ;  but  to  these  laws,  as  if  they  were  living 
things,  and  had  a  vital  power  and  energy  be- 
longing to  them,  we  come  to  attribute  the  act- 
ual accomplishment  of  the  results.  It  happens 
thus  that  the  works  of  his  hands  in  the  midst 


The  First  Miracle.  251 

of  whicli  we  live,  and  which  for  his  glory  and 
our  good,  the  Great  Creator  and  Sustainer 
makes  to  move  on  with  such  fixed  and  orderly, 
stately  and  beautiful  array,  instead  of  being  a 
clear  translucent  medium  through  which  we 
see  him,  become  often  as  a  thick  obscuring  veil, 
hiding  him  from  our  sight.  Hence  the  use  of 
miracles,  that  He  who  worketh  all  in  all,  and 
worketh  thus,  should  sometimes  break  as  it 
were  this  order,  that  through  the  rent  we  might 
see  the  hand  which  had  been  hidden  behind 
that  self-constructed  veil. 

And  yet  when  we  speak  thus  of  a  miracle  as 
a  breaking-in  upon  the  ordinary  and  established 
course  of  nature,  let  us  not  think  of  it  as  if  it 
were  discord  thrust  into  a  harmony  ;  something 
loose,  irregular,  disjointed,  coming  in  to  mar 
the  beautiful  and  orderly  progression.  In  that 
harmonious  progression,  the  lower  ever  yields 
to  the  higher.  The  vital  powers,  for  instance, 
in  plants  and  animals,  are  ever  modifying  the 
mechanical  powers,  the  laws  of  motion  ;  the 
will  of  man  comes  in,  in  stQl  more  striking 
manner,  to  do  the  same  thing  with  all  the  pow- 
ers and  processes  of  nature.  You  do  not  say 
that  such  crossings  and  counteractions  of  lower 
by  higher  laws  disturb  the  harmony  of  nature  j 


252  The  First  Mieacle. 

they  go  to  constitute  it.  And  we  believe  that 
just  as  falsely  as  you  would  say  that  the  order 
of  nature  was  broken,  the  law  of  gravitation 
was  violated,  when  the  sap  ascends  in  the  stem 
of  the  tree,  and  is  distributed  upwards  through 
its  branches  ;  just  as  falsely  is  it  said  of  the 
miracles  of  Christianity,  that  they  break  that 
order,  or  violate  any  of  nature's  laws  ;  for  did 
we  but  know  enough  of  that  spiritual  kingdom 
for  whose  establishment  and  advancement  they 
were  wrought,  we  should  perceive  that  here 
too  there  was  law  and  order,  and  that  what  we 
now  call  miracles  were  but  instances  of  the 
lower  yielding  to  the  higher  ;  that  the  grand, 
unbroken  harmony  of  the  vast  universe,  ma- 
terial, mental,  moral,  spiritual,  may  be  sustamed 
and  promoted. 

This  beginning  of  miracles  did  Jesus  in  Cana 
of  Galilee,  and  manifested  forth  his  glory.  The 
glory  that  was  thus  revealed  lay  not  so  much 
in  the  forthputting  of  almighty  power  (for  it  is 
an  hiferior  glory  tha,t  the  bare  exercise  of  any 
power,  though  it  be  divine,  displays),  as  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  power  is  exercised,  the 
ends  it  is  put  forth  to  accomplish.  Power  ap- 
pears here  as  the  handmaid  and  minister  of 
Loving   Kindness,  and  gathers  thus   a   richer 


The  First  Miracle.  253 

glory  than  its  own  around  it.     Never   let  us 
forcet  that  the  first  act  of  our  Lord's  public  life 
was  to  grace  a  marriage  by  his  presence.     By 
doing  so,  he  has  for  ever  consecrated  that  and 
every   other   human   bond    and    relationship. 
And  the  first  exercise  of  his  almighty  power 
was  to  minister  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  marriage- 
feast.     He  who  would  not  in  the  extremity  of 
hunger  employ  his  power  to  procure  food  for 
himself,  put  it  forth  to  increase  the  comforts  of 
others.     By  doing  so,  he  has  for  ever  conse- 
crated all  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  life.     It 
will  not  do  to  say,  that  his  example  here  is  no 
pattern    to  us  ;  that  what  was   safe   for   him 
might  be  injurious  to  us  ;  for  he  not  only  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  for  himself,  but  took  his 
disciples  along  with  him  to  the  marriage-feast. 
There  is  something  pecuUarly  striking  and  in- 
structive in  our  Lord  coming  so  directly  from 
consort   with  the  austere  ascetic  preacher  of 
the   wilderness,  and  carrying  along  with  him 
these  first  disciples,  the  majority  of  whom  had 
been  John's  disciples  before  they  were  his.  and 
seating  them  by  his  side  at  this  festive  board. 
Does  it  not  teach  what  the  genius  and  spirit 
of  his  rehgion  is  ?     That  it  affects  not  the  des- 
ert ;  that  it  shuns  not  the  fellowship  of  man  ; 


254  The  First  Mieacle. 

that  it  frowns  not  on  social  joys  and  pleasures  ; 
that  it  rejoices  as  readily  with  those  who  re- 
joice as  it  weeps  with  those  who  weep  ;  ready 
to  be  with  us  in  our  hours  of  gladness,  as  well 
as  in  our  hours  of  grief.  Let  no  table  be 
spread  to  which  He  who  graced  the  marriage- 
feast  at  Cana  could  not  be  invited  ;  let  no 
pleasure  be  indulged  in  which  could  not  live  in 
the  light  of  his  countenance.  Let  his  presence 
and  blessing  be  with  us  and  upon  us  wherever 
we  go  and  however  we  are  engaged  ;  and  is 
the  way  not  open  by  which  the  miracle  of 
Cana  may,  in  spirit,  be  repeated  daily  still, 
and  the  water  of  every  earthly  enjoyment 
turned  into  the  very  wine  of  heaven  ' 


XII. 

THE   CLEANSING   OF    THE    TEMPLE.* 

THE  miracle  at  the  marriage-feast  drew  a 
marked  line  of  distinction  between  Jesus, 
the  Baptist,  and  the  austere  Essenes,  those 
eremites  who  dwelt  apart,  shut  up  in  a  kind  of 
monastic  seclusion,  and  who  renounced  the  use 
of  wine,  condemned  marriage,  and  denounced 
all  bodily  indulgence  as  injurious  to  the  purity 
of  the  spirit.  By  acting  as  he  did  at  Cana,  Je- 
sus at  the  very  outset  of  his  career  placed  him- 
self in  direct  opposition  to  the  strictest  class  of 
pietists  then  existing, — in  direct  opposition  to 
the  spirit  and  practice  of  those  in  all  ages  who 
have  sought,  by  withdrawal  from  the  world 
and  estrangement  from  all  objects  of  sense,  to 
cultivate  communion  with  the  unseen,  to  rise 
to  a  closer  intercourse  with  and  nearer  resem- 
blance to  the  Deity, 

•  John  ii.  12-21  ;  Matt.  xxi.  10-17. 


256         The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

One  effect  of  this  first  display  by  Jesus  of 
his  supernatural  power  was  a  strengthening  of 
the  faith  of  the  men  who  had  recently  attached 
themselves  to  him.  "  His  disciples,"  it  is  said, 
"  believed  in  him."  They  had  believed  before, 
but  they  believed  more  firmly  now.  The 
ground  of  their  first  faith  had  been  the  testimo- 
ny of  the  Baptist.  Their  faith  had  grown  du- 
ring the  few  days  of  private  intercourse  with 
Jesus  which  succeeded,  and  now,  by  the  mani- 
festation of  his  power  and  glory,  it  was  still 
more  strengthened.  It  was  still,  as  later  trial 
too  clearly  proved,  weak  and  imperfect.  But 
their  minds  and  hearts  were  in  such  a  condi- 
tion that  they  lay  open  to  the  influence  of  ad~ 
ditional  light  as  to  their  Master's  character,  ad- 
ditional evidence  of  his  authority  and  power. 
But  there  were  other  spectators  of  the  miracle 
upon  whom  it  exerted  no  such  happy  influence. 
After  the  Marriage-feast  at  Cana  broke  up, 
"  Jesus  and  his  mother,  and  his  brethren,  and 
his  disciples  went  down  to  Capernaum."  This 
is  the  first  mention  of  those  brethren  of  Christ 
who  appear  more  than  once  in  the  subsequent 
history,  always  associated  with  Mary,  as  form- 
ing part  of  her  family,  carefully  distinguished 
from  the  apostles  and  disciples  of  the   Lord. 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         257 

They  are  represented  on  one  occasion  as  going 
out  after  him,  thinking  he  was  beside  himself ; 
and  when  he  was  told  that  Mary  and  they 
stood  at  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  desiring  to 
see  him,  he  exclaimed,  "  Who  is  my  mother, 
ar.  i  who  are  my  brethren  ?  Whosoever  shall 
do  the  will  of  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven, 
the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and 
mother."  On  another  occasion,  the  Nazarines 
referred  to  them  when,  astonished  and  of- 
fended, they  said  to  one  another,  "  Is  not  this 
the  carpenter's  son  ?  is  not  his  mother  called 
Mary,  and  his  brethren  James,  and  Joses,  and 
Simon  and  Judas  ?  And  his  sisters,  are  they 
not  all  with  us  ?"  John  tells  that  at  a  still 
later  period,  in  the  beginning  of  the  last  year 
of  our  Lord's  ministry,  these  relatives  taunted 
him,  saying,  "  If  thou  do  these  things,  show 
thyself  to  the  world  ;  for  neither  did  his  breth- 
ren believe  in  him."  Had  we  been  reading 
these  passages  for  the  first  time,  we  should 
scarcely  have  understood  them  otherwise  than 
as  referring  to  those  who  were  related  to  Jesus 
as  children  of  the  same  mother.  This  would 
of  course  imply  that  Mary  had  other  children 
than  Jesus,  an  idea  to  which  from  the  earliest 
period  there  seems  to  have  been  the  strongest 


258         The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

repugnance.  Resting  upon  the  well-known 
usage  which  allowed  the  term  brother  and  sis- 
ter to  be  extended  to  more  distant  relation- 
ships, and  upon  the  acknowledged  difficulty 
which  arises  in  connexion  with  the  names  of 
our  Lord's  brothers  as  given  by  the  Evangel- 
ists, both  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  Churches, 
though  adopting  different  theories  as  to  the 
exact  nature  of  the  relationship,  have  indig- 
nantly repudiated  the  idea  of  Mary's  having 
any  but  one  child,  and  have  regarded  those 
spoken  of  as  his  brothers  as  being  either  his 
half-brothers,  sons  of  Joseph  by  another  mar- 
riage, or  his  cousins,  the  children  of  Mary's 
sister,  the  wife  of  Alphaeus  or  Cleophas.  It 
would  be  out  of  place  here  to  enter  upon  the 
discussion  of  this  difficult  question.  I  can  only 
say  that,  after  weighing  all  the  objections 
which  have  been  adduced,  I  can  see  no  suf- 
ficient reason  for  rejecting  the  first  and  most 
natural  reading  of  the  passages  I  have  referred 
to,  for  not  believing  that  they  were  brothers 
and  sisters  of  Jesus,  who  grew  up  along  with 
him  in  the  household  at  Nazareth.  Perhaps 
our  readiness  to  admit  this  may  partly  spring 
from  our  not  sharing  the  impression  that  there 
is  anything  in  such  a  belief  either  derogatory 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.  259 

to  the  character  of  Mary,  or  to  the  true  dignity 
of  her  first-born  Son. 

Whoever  they  were,  and  however  related 
to  him,  these  brethren  of  the  Lord,  his  nearest 
relatives,  who  had  all  along  been  living,  if  not 
under  the  same  roof,  yet  in  close  and  intimate 
acquaintance  with  him,  sat  beside  his  disciples 
at  that  marriage-feast,  and  saw  the  wonder  that 
was  done,  and  they  did  not  believe.  As 
months  rolled  on,  they  saw  and  heard  of  still 
greater  wonders  wrought  in  the  presence  of 
multitudes.  Residing  with  Mary  at  Caper- 
naum, they  lived  in  tlie  very  heart  of  that  com- 
motion which  the  teaching  and  acts  of  Jesus 
excited.  Neither  did  they  then  believe.  Their 
unbelief  may  have  been  in  part  sustained  by 
Christ's  having  ceased  to  make  theb  home  his 
home,  and  chosen  twelve  strangers  as  his  close 
and  constant  companions  and  friends.  Nor 
did  any  of  them  believe  in  Jesus  all  through 
the  three  years  of  his  ministry.  But  it  is 
pleasing  to  note  that,  though  so  long  and  so 
stubbornly  maintained,  their  unbelief  did  at 
last  give  way  ;  you  see  them  in  that  upper 
room  to  which  the  apostles  retired  after  wit- 
nessing the  ascension  :  "  And  when  they  were 
come   in,  they  went  up  into  an  upper  room, 


260         The  Cleansing  op  the  Temple. 

where  abode  both  Peter  and  James,  and  John 
and  Andrew,  Philip  and  Thomas,  Bartliolo- 
mew  and  Matthew,  James  the  son  Alphceus, 
and  Simon  Zelotes,  and  Judas  the  brother  of 
James.  These  all  continued  with  one  accord 
in  prayer  and  supplication  with  the  women, 
and  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus,  and  with  his 
brethren."  How  many  an  apt  remark  on  the 
pecuhar  barriers  which  the  closer  ties  of  do- 
mestic life  often  oppose  to  the  influence  of  the 
one  Christian  member  of  a  household,  and  on 
the  peculiar  encouragement  which  such  a  one 
has  to  persevere,  might  be  grounded  upon  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  till  after  his  death  that  our 
Lord's  own  immediate  relatives  believed  in 
him. 

When  the  marriage-feast  at  Cana  was  over, 
Jesus  and  his  mother,  and  his  brethren,  and 
his  disciples  went  down  to  Capernaum.  Of 
this  town  we  shall  have  more  to  say  hereafter, 
when  it  became  the  chosen  centre  of  our  Lord's 
Galilean  ministry.  One  advantage  of  the  short 
visit  that  Jesus  now  paid  to  it  was,  that  it  jnit 
him  on  the  route  along  which  the  already  gath- 
ering bands  of  visitors  from  Northern  Galilee 
passed  southwards  to  the  capital.  The  Pass- 
over  was   at  hand,    and  Jesus  went  up    to 


The  Cleansing  op  the  Temple.         261 

Jerusalem.  Hitherto,  though  some  time  had 
passed  (two  or  three  months  perhaps,  but  there 
are  no  materials  for  exactly  determining)  since 
his  baptism,  and  the  public  proclamation  of  his 
Messiahship,  Jesus  had  taken  no  public  step, 
none  implying  any  assumption  on  his  part  of 
the  office  to  which  he  had  been  designated. 
Of  the  few  men  who  attended  him,  there  was 
but  one  whom  he  had  asked  to  follow  him  ;  nor 
was  it  yet  understood  whether  he  and  the  rest 
were  to  accompany  him  for  more  than  a  few 
days.  The  miracle  at  Cana  was  rather  of  a  pri- 
vate and  domestic  than  of  a  public  character. 
Nothing  that  we  know  of  was  said  or  done  by 
Jesus  at  Capernaum,  or  throughout  the  short 
visit  to  Galilee,  to  indicate  his  entrance  on  a 
public  career. 

But  now  he  is  in  Jerusalem,  in  the  place 
where  most  appropriately  the  first  revelation 
of  himself  in  his  new  character  is  made.  Let 
us  acknowledge  that  it  is  not  in  the  form  in 
which  we  should  have  expected  it ;  nor  in  that 
form  in  which  any  Jew  of  that  age  would  ever 
have  imagined  that  the  Messiah  should  first 
show  himself  We  may  be  able,  by  meditating 
a  little  upon  it,  to  see  more  of  its  suitableness 
than  at  first  sight  appears.     But  even  a  first 


2G2         The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

glance  reveals  how  utterly  unlike  it  was  to  the 
popular  Jewish  conception  of  the  advent  of  the 
Messiah.  One  of  the  hrst  things  our  Lord  does 
at  Jerusalem  is  to  go  up  mto  the  Temple.  He 
passes  through  one  of  the  gates  of  its  surround- 
ing walls.  He  enters  into  the  large  open  area 
which  on  all  sides  encompasses  the  sacred  edi- 
fice. What  a  spectacle  meets  his  eye  !  There, 
all  round,  attached  to  the  walls,  are  lines  of 
booths  or  shops  in  which  money-changers  are 
plying  their  usurious  trade.  The  centre  space 
is  crowded  with  oxen  and  with  sheep  exposed 
for  sale,  and  between  the  buyers  and  the  sellers 
all  the  turbulent  traffic  of  a  cattle-market  is  go- 
ing on.  It  goes  on  within  the  outer  enclosure, 
but  close  upon  the  inner  buildings  of  the  Holy 
Place  ;  so  close  that  the  loud  hum  from  the 
crowded  court  of  the  Gentiles  must  have  been 
heard  to  their  no  small  disturbance  by  the 
priests  and  worshippers  within.  How  comes 
ill  this  ?  and  who  is  responsible  for  this  desecra- 
tion of  the  Temple  ?  The  origin  of  it  in  one 
/ense  was  natural  enough.  At  all  the  great 
festivals,  but  especially  at  the  Passover,  an 
almost  inconceivable  number  of  animals  were 
offered  up  in  sacrifice.  Josephus  tells  us  of 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand  victims  sacri- 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         263 

ficed  in  the  course  of  a  single  Passover  celebra- 
tion. Tlie  greatest  proportion  of  these  were 
not  brought  up  from  the  country  by  the  offerers, 
but  were  purchased  on  their  arrival  at  Jerusa- 
lem. An  extensive  traffic,  yielding  no  incon- 
siderable gain  to  those  engaged  in  it,  was  thus 
created.  Some  open  area  for  conducting  it  was 
needed.  The  heads  of  the  priesthood,  to  whom 
the  custody  of  the  Temple  was  committed,  saw 
that  good  rents  were  got  for  any  suitable  mar- 
ket-ground which  the  city  could  supply.  They 
were  tempted  to  fill  their  own  coffers  from  this 
source.  Jerusalem  could  furnish  no  place  so 
suitable  for  the  exposure  of  the  animals  as  the 
Court  of  the  Gentiles.  What  more  convenient 
than  that  the  victims  should  be  purchased  in 
the  ver}'-  neighborhood  of  the  place  where  they 
were  to  be  offered  up  ?  The  greed  of  gain  pre- 
vailed over  all  care  for  the  sanctity  of  the  Tem- 
ple. The  Court  of  the  Gentiles  was  let  out  to 
the  cattle-dealers,  and  a  large  amount  was  thus 
added  to  the  yearly  revenue  of  the  Temple. 
Still  another  source  of  gain  lay  open,  and  was 
taken  advantage  of.  Every  one  who  came  up 
to  the  Passover,  and  desired  to  take  part  in  the 
festival,  had  to  present  a  half-shekel  of  Jewish 
money  to  the  priests.     This  kind  of  money  was 


264  The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

not  now  in  general  use  ;  it  was  scarce  even  in 
Judea,  unknown  beyond  that  land.  Nothing, 
however,  but  the  half-shekel  of  the  sanctuary- 
would  be  taken  at  the  Temple.  To  supply 
themselves  with  the  needed  coin,  visitors  had 
to  go  to  the  money-changer.  And  where  can 
he  find  a  fitter  place  to  erect  his  booth  and  set 
out  his  table  than  within  the  very  area  in  which 
the  larger  traffic  was  going  on  ?  He  offers  so 
much  to  the  priesthood  to  be  permitted  to  do 
so  ;  the  bribe  is  taken,  and  the  booth  and  the 
tables  are  erected.  And  so,  amid  a  perfect 
Babel  of  tongues,  and  thronging,  jostling 
crowds  of  men  and  beasts,  the  buying  and  the 
selhng  and  the  money-changing  are  all  going 
on. 

Into  the  heart  of  this  tumultuous  throng 
Jesus  enters.  Of  the  many  hundreds  there, 
few  have  ever  seen  him  before  ;  few  know  any- 
thing about  him,  either  about  his  baptism  in 
the  Jordan,  or  his  late  miracle  at  Cana.  He 
appears  as  a  stranger,  a  young  man  clad  in  the 
simple  garb  of  a  Galilean  peasant,  without  any 
badge  of  authority  in  his  hand.  He  looks 
around  with  an  eye  of  indignant  sorrow,  pours 
out  the  changers'  money,  overthrows  their 
tables,  forming  a  scourge  of  small  cords  drives 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         265 

the  herds  of  cattle  before  him,  and  minghng 
consideration  with  his  zeal,  says  to  them  who 
sold  the  doves,  **  Take  these  things  hence  ; 
make  not  my  Father's  house  a  house  of  mer- 
chandise." Why  is  it  that  at  the  touch  of  his 
slender  scourge,  and  the  bidding  of  this  youth- 
ful stranger,  buyers  and  sellers  stop  their  traffic, 
the  money-changers  suffer  their  money  to  be 
rudely  handled,  and  their  tables  to  be  over- 
turned ?  The  slightest  resistance  of  so  many 
against  one  would  have  been  sufficient  to  have 
arrested  the  movement.  But  no  such  resistance 
is  attempted,  no  opposition  is  made,  by  men 
not  likely  from  their  occupation  to  be  remark- 
able for  mildness  of  disposition  or  pliabiUty  of 
character.  How  are  we  to  explain  this  ?  We 
can  understand  how,  at  the  last  Passover,  at 
the  close  of  his  ministry,  when  Jesus,  then  so 
well  known,  so  generally  recognized  by  the 
people  as  a  prophet,  repeated  this  cleansing  of 
the  Temple,  there  should  have  been  a  yielding 
to  his  authoritative  command.  But  what  are 
we  to  say  of  such  an  occurrence  taking  place  at 
the  very  commencement  of  his  ministry,  his 
first  public  act  in  Jerusalem  ?  It  is  a  mysteri- 
ous power  which  some  men,  in  time  of  excite- 
ment, by  look  and  word  and  tone  of  command, 


266         The  Cleansing  op  the  Temple. 

can  exercise  over  their  fellow-men.  But  grant 
that  rare  power  in  its  highest  degree  to  Jesus, 
it  will  scarce  account  for  this  scene  in  the  Court 
of  the  Gentiles  at  Jerusalem.  It  would  seem 
as  if,  in  eye  and  voice  and  action,  the  divine 
power  and  authority  that  lay  in  Jesus  broke 
forth4nto  visible  manifestation,  and  laid  such  a 
spell  upon  those  rough  cattle-drivers  and  those 
cold  calculators  of  the  money-tables,  that  all 
power  of  resistance  was  for  the  time  subdued. 
It  would  seem  as  if  it  pleased  him  to  exert  here 
within  the  Temple  the  same  influence  that  he 
did  afterwards  in  the  Garden,  when  he  stepped 
forth  from  the  darkness  into  the  full  moonlight, 
and  said  to  the  rough  band  that  advanced  with 
their  lanterns  and  swords  and  staves  to  take  him, 
"  I  that  speak  unto  you  am  he  ;  "  and  when  at 
the  sight  and  word  they  reeled  backward  and 
fell  to  the  ground,  the  effect  in  both  cases 
was  but  temporary.  High  priests  and  officers 
were  soon  upon  their  feet  again  ;  and,  wonder- 
ing at  their  own  weakness  in  yielding  to  a 
power  which  at  the  moment  they  were  impo- 
tent to  resist,  proceeded  to  lay  hold  upon 
Jesus,  and  lead  him  away  unto  Caiaphas.  So 
was  it  also,  we  believe,  in  the  Temple  court. 
A  sudden,  mysterious,  kresistible  power  is  upon 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         267 

that  crowd.  They  yield,  they  know  not  why. 
But  by  and  by  the  spell  would  seem  to  be  with- 
drawn. They  soon  recover  from  its  effect. 
Nor  is  it  long  till,  wondering  at  their  having 
allowed  a  single  man,  and  one  who  had  no 
right  whatever,  to  interfere  with  arrangements 
made  by  the  chief  authorities,  and  to  lord  it 
over  them,  they  return,  resume  their  occupa- 
tions, and  all  goes  on  as  before. 

It  was  with  no  intention  or  expectation  of 
putting  an  end  in  this  way  to  the  desecration 
of  the  Holy  Place  that  Jesus  acted.  What, 
then,  was  the  purpose  of  his  act  ?  It  was 
meant  to  be  a  public  proclamation  of  his  Son- 
ship  to  Grod  ;  an  open  assertion  and  exercise 
of  his  authority  as  sustaining  this  relation  ;  a 
protest  in  his  Father's  name  against  the  con- 
duct of  the  priesthood  in  permitting  this  des- 
ecration of  the  Holy  Place.  It  was  far  more 
for  the  priesthood  than  for  the  crowd  in  the 
market-place  that  it  was  meant.  They  were 
not  ignorant  that  the  chief  object  of  the  min- 
istry of  the  Baptist,  with  which  the  whole 
country  was  ringing,  was  to  announce  the  im- 
mediate coming  of  the  Messiah.  They  had  not 
long  before  sent  a  deputation  to  the  banks  of 
the  Jordan  to  ask  John  whether  he  himself 


2G8         The  CLEANsiNa  of  the  Temple. 

were  not  the  Messiah  whose  near  advent  he 
was  foreteUing.  The  members  of  that  depu- 
tation heard  of  the  baptism  of  Jesus  ;  in  all 
likelihood  they  had  not  left  the  place  when  Je- 
sus came  back  from  the  temptation  in  the  Wil- 
derness, and  was  publicly  pointed  to  by  John 
as  the  greater  than  himself  who  was  to  come 
after  him,  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  Son  of  God. 
From  the  lips  of  the  men  whom  they  had  sent, 
or  from  the  lips  of  others,  they  must  have 
known  all  about  what  had  happened.  And 
now  here  among  them  is  this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ; 
here  he  is  come  up  to  the  Temple,  speaking 
and  acting  as  if  it  were  his  part  and  office 
authoritatively  to  interpose  and  cleanse  the 
building  of  all  its  defilements.  What  else 
could  the  priesthood  who  had  charge  of  the 
Temple  understand  than  that  here  was  claimed 
a  jurisdiction  in  regard  to  it  superior  to  their 
own  ?  What  else  could  they  understand  when 
the  words  were  heard,  or  were  repeated  to 
them,  "  Make  not  my  Father's  house  a  house 
of  merchandise,"  than  that  here  was  one  who 
claimed  a  relationship  to  God  as  his  Father, 
and  a  right  over  the  Temple  as  his  Father's 
house,  which  none  but  One  could  claim  ?  They 
go  to  him,  therefore,  or  they  call  him  before 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         269 

them,  and  entering,  you  will  remark,  into  no 
justification  of  their  own  deed  in  hiring  out  the 
Temple  court  as  they  had  done, — entering 
into  no  argument  with  him  as  to  the  rightness 
or  wrongness  of  what  he  had  done,  rather  ad- 
mitting that  if  he  were  indeed  a  prophet,  as 
his  acts  showed  that  he  at  least  pretended  to 
be,  his  act  was  justifiable  ;  they  proceed  upon 
the  assumption  that  he  was  bound  to  give  to 
them  some  proof  of  his  carrying  a  Divine  com- 
mission, and  they  say  to  him,  "  What  sign 
showest  thou  unto  us,  seeing  thou  doest  those 
things  ?" 

He  had  shown  a  good  enough  sign  already, 
had  they  read  it  aright.  He  was  about  to  show 
signs  numerous  and  significant  enough  in  the 
days  that  immediately  succeeded  ;  but  to  such 
a  haughty  challenge  as  this,  coming,  as  he 
knew,  from  men  whom  no  sign  would  convince 
of  his  Messiahship,  he  had  but  this  reply :  "  De- 
stroy this  temple,  and  in  three  days  I  will  raise 
it  up."  A  truly  dark  saying  ;  one  that,  not 
only  they  did  not  and  could  not  at  the  time 
understand,  but  that  they  were  almost  certain 
to  misunderstand,  and,  misunderstanding,  to 
turn  against  the  speaker,  as  if  he  meant  to 
claim  the  possession  of  a  power  which  he  never 


270         The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

could  be  called  upon  to  exercise.  Then  said 
the  Jews,  interpreting,  as  they  could  scarce  fail 
to  do,  his  words  as  applicable  to  the  material 
Temple  :  "  Forty-and-six  years  has  this  Tem- 
ple bean  in  building,  and  wilt  thou  rear  it  up 
in  three  days  ?''* 

Jesus  made  no  attempt  to  rectify  the  error 
into  which  his  questioners  had  fallen.  He 
could  not  well  have  done  so  without  a  prema- 
ture disclosure  of  his  death  and  resurrection,  a 
thing  that  he  carefully  avoided  till  the  time  of 
their  accomplishment  drew  near.  He  left  this 
mysterious  saying  to  be  interpreted  against 
himself.  It  seems  to  have  taken  a  deep  hold, 
to  have  been  widely  circulated,  and   to  have 


*  It  is  curious  that,  in  saying  so,  they  have  left  to  us  one  of 
the  few  fixed  and  certain  data  upon  which  we  can  determine  the 
year  when  the  pubKc  ministry  of  our  Lord  began.  We  know  that 
the  building,  or  rather  rebuilding  of  the  Temple,  was  commenced 
by  Herod  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  reign  ;  that  is,  speaking 
according  to  the  Roman  method  of  counting  their  years  from  the 
foundation  of  Home,  during  the  year  that  began  in  the  spring  of 
734,  and  ended  in  that  of  735.  Forty-six  years  from  this  would 
bring  us  to  the  year  780-781.  Historical  statements  and  astrono- 
mical calculations  consjiire  to  prove  that  it  must  have  been  be- 
tween the  13th  March  and  the  4th  April,  in  the  year  750,  that 
Herod  died.  If  Christ  were  born  a  few  mouths  before  that 
death,  thirty  years  forward  from  that  time  brings  us  to  the  year 
780,  as  that  in  which  our  Lord's  ministry  commenced  ; — the 
two  independent  computations  tlius  singularly  confinnJng  one 
another. 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.  271 

fixed  itself  very  deeply  in  the  memory  of  the 
people.  Three  years  afterwards,  when  they 
were  trying  to  convict  him  of  some  crime  in 
reference  to  religion,  this  first  saying  of  his  was 
brought  up  against  him.  as  one  uttered  blas- 
phemously against  the  Temple,  but  the  two 
witnesses  could  not  agree  about  the  words. 
And  when  the  cross  was  raised,  those  who 
passed  by  railed  on  him,  saying,  "  Ah,  thou 
that  destroyest  the  Temple,  and  buildest  it  in 
three  days,  save  thyself."  Whatever  differ- 
ences there  were  in  the  remembrances  and 
reports  of  the  people,  in  one  thing  they  agreed, 
in  the  attributing  the  destruction  of  the  Tem- 
ple that  Jesus  had  spoken  of  here,  to  himself. 
But  he  had  not  spoken  of  the  destruction  as 
effected  by  his  own  hands,  but  by  those  of  the 
Jews  themselves.  And  he  had  not  had  in  his 
eye  the  material  Temple  on  Mount  Moriah, 
but  the  temple  of  his  body,  which  they  were 
to  destroy,  and  which  he,  three  days  afterwards, 
was  to  raise  from  the  dead.  All  this  became 
plain  afterwards,  and  went,  when  his  real 
meaning  stood  revealed  in  the  event,  mightily 
to  confirm  the  faith  of  his  followers.  And  in 
one  respect  it  may  still  go  to  confirm  ours,  for 
does  not  that  saying  of  Jesus,  uttered  so  early, 


272  The  Cleaksing  of  the  Temple. 

— his  first  word,  we  may  say,  to  the  leaders  of 
the  people  at  Jerusalem, — does  it  not,  along 
with  so  many  other  like  evidences,  go  to  prove 
how  clearly  the  Lord  saw  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning? 

The  Temple  at  Jerusalem  has  long  been  in 
ruins.  In  its  stead  there  stands  now  before  us 
the  Church  of  the  body  of  Christ,  the  society 
of  the  faitliful.  In  her  corporate  capacity,  in 
her  corporate  actings,  has  the  Church  not  acted 
over  again  what  the  Jews  did  with  their  Tem- 
ple, wlien  she  has  made  merchandise  of  her 
offices  and  her  revenues,  and  sold  them  to  the 
highest  bidder,  as  you  would  sell  oxen  in  the 
market  or  meat  in  the  shambles  ?  The  sjjirit 
which  prompts  such  open  sacrilegious  acts, 
such  gross  making  gain  of  godliness,  is  the  self- 
same spirit  which  our  Lord  rebuked  ;  and  how 
often  does  it  creep  into  and  take  hold  and 
spread  like  a  defiling  leprosy  over  the  house  of 
God  ?  It  does  so  in  the  pulpit,  whenever  self, 
in  one  or  other  of  its  insidious  forms,  frames 
the  speech  and  animates  the  utterance  ;  it  does 
so  in  the  pew,  when  in  the  hour  hallowed  to 
prayer  and  praise,  the  chambers  of  thought 
and  imagery  within  are  crowded  with  worldly 
guests.     Know  ye  not,  brethren,  that  ye  are 


The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple.         273 

the  temple  of  God  ;  and  that  the  temple  of 
God  is  holy,  which  temple  ye  are  ?  Would 
that  half  the  zeal  the  Saviour  showed  in  cleans- 
ing the  earthly  building  were  but  shown  by 
each  of  us  in  the  purifying  and  cleansing  of  our 
hearts !  Truly  it  is  no  easy  task  to  drive  out 
thence  everything  that  defileth  in  his  sight,  to 
keep  out  as  well  as  to  put  out  ;  for,  quick  as 
were  those  buyers  and  sellers  of  old  in  coming 
back  to  their  places  in  the  Temple,  and  resum- 
ing their  occupations  there,  quicker  still  are 
those  vain  and  sinful  desires,  dispositions,  im- 
aginations, which  in  our  moments  of  excited 
zeal  we  have  expelled  from  our  hearts,  in  re- 
turning to  their  old  and  w^ell-loved  haunts. 
The  Lord  of  the  temple  must  come  himself  to 
cleanse  it  ;  come,  not  once  or  twice,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  ;  come,  not  as 
a  transient  visitor,  but  as  an  abiding  guest  ; 
not  otherwise  than  by  his  own  indwelling  shall 
these  unhallowed  inmates  be  ejected  and  kept 
without,  and  the  house  made  worthy  of  Him 
who  deigns  to  occupy  it. 


XIII. 

THE   CONVERSATION    WITH    NICODEMUS.* 

CHRIST'S  first  visit  to  Jerusalem,  after  his 
baptism,  appears  to  have  been  a  brief 
one  ;  not  longer,  perhaps,  than  that  usually 
paid  by  those  who  went  up  to  the  Passover. 
Besides  the  cleansing  of  the  Temple  he  wrought 
some  miracles  which  are  left  unrecorded,  but 
which  we  may  believe  were  of  the  same  kind  as 
his  subsequent  ones,  and  these  were  generally 
miracles  of  healing.  Many  believed  on  him 
when  they  saw  those  miracles  performed  ;  be- 
lieved on  him  as  a  wonder-worker,  as  a  man 
who  had  the  great  power  of  God  at  his  com- 
mand ;  but  their  faith  scarcely  went  further, 
involved  in  it  little  or  no  recognition  of  his  true 
character  and  office.  Although  they  believed 
in  him,  Jesus  did  not  believe  in  them  (for  it  is 
the  same  word  which  is  used  in  the  two  cases). 

*  John  iii.  1-21. 


The  Conyersation  with  Nicodemts.      275 

Knowing  what  was  in  tfiem,  as  he  knew  w^hat 
was  in  all  men,  undeceived  by  appearance  or 
profession,  he  entered  into  no  close  or  friendly 
relations  with  them  ;  made  no  hasty  or  prema- 
ture discovery  of  himself. 

But  there  was  one  man  to  whom  he  did  com- 
mit himself  on  the  occasion  of  this  first  and 
short  residence  in  Jerusalem,  to  whom  he  did 
make  such  a  discovery  of  himself,  as  we  shall 
presently  see  he  never  made  to  any  other  sin- 
gle person  in  the  whole  course  of  his  ministry. 
This  was  a  man  of  the  Pharisees,  one  of  the 
sect  that  became  the  most  bitter  persecutors  of 
Christ ;  a  ruler  too  of  the  Jews,  a  man  well 
educated,  of  good  position,  and  in  high  office  ; 
a  member  of  the  Sanhedrim.  He  was  one  of 
the  body  that  not  long  ago  had  sent  the  dep- 
utation down  to  the  Jordan  to  inquire  about 
the  Baptist.  He  knew  all  about  John's  min- 
istry, about  his  announcing  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  was  at  hand,  that  there  was  One  com- 
ing after  him  who  was  to  baptize  not  with 
water  but  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  had  been 
wondering  what  this  ministry  of  John  could 
mean,  when  Jesus  appeared  in  the  city, 
cleansed  the  Temple,  wrought  those  miracles. 
He  saw  that  among  the  class  to  which  he  be- 


276      The  Conteesation  with  Nicodemus. 

longed,  the  appearance  and  acts  of  the  youiig 
Nazarene,  who  had  assumed  and  exercised 
such  au  authority  within  the  courts  of  the 
Temple,  and  when  challenged  had  given  such 
an  unsatisfactory  reply,  had  excited  nothing 
"but  distrust  and  antipathy ;  a  distrust  and 
antipathy,  however,  in  which  he  did  not, 
could  not  share.  He  could  not  concur  with 
those  wlio  spake  of  him  as  an  ignorant  rustic, 
a  mere  bhnd  zealot,  whom  a  fit  of  fanaticism 
had  driven  to  do  what  he  did  in  the  Temple  ; 
still  less  could  he  agree  with  those  who  spake 
of  him  as  an  impostor,  a  deceiver  of  the  people. 
We  do  not  know  what  words  of  Christ's  he 
heard,  what  acts  of  liis  he  witnessed  ;  but  the 
impression  had  come  upon  him,  whencesoever 
it  came,  that  he  was  altogether  different  from 
what  his  fellow-rulers  were  disposed  to  believe. 
Could  tliis  indeed  be  the  man  of  whom  John 
spake  so  much  ;  could  this  be  indeed  the  Christ, 
the  Messiah  for  whom  so  many  were  longing  ? 
If  he  was,  what  new  and  higher  truths  would 
he  unfold,  what  a  glorious  kingdom  would  ho 
usher  in  !  Restless  and  unsatisfied  with  things 
as  they  were,  all  his  Pharisaic  strictness  in  the 
keeping  of  the  law  having  failed  to  quiet  his 
conscience,  and  give  comfort  to  his  heart,  Nico* 


The  Conyersation  with  Nicodemus.      277 

demus  was  looking  about  and  longing  for  fur- 
ther light.  Perhaps  this  stranger,  who  has 
come  to  Jerusalem,  may  be  able  to  help  him. 
He  may  be  poor  and  mean,  a  Galilean  by  birth, 
without  official  rank  or  authority  ;  but  what  of 
that,  if  he  be  really  what  he  seems,  one  clothed 
with  a  Divine  commission  ;  what  of  that,  if  he 
can  quench  hi  any  way  this  thirst  of  heart  and 
soul  which  burns  within  ?  If  he  could  be  seen 
by  him  alone,  Jesus  would  surely  lay  aside  that 
reserve  which  he  appeared  to  maintain,  and  in- 
struct him  fully  as  to  the  mysteries  of  the  com- 
ing kingdom.  But  how  could  such  a  private 
interview  be  brought  about  ?  He  might  send 
for  him  ;  and  sent  for  by  one  in  his  position, 
Jesus  might  not  refuse  to  come.  But  then  it 
would  be  noised  abroad  that  he  had  been  en- 
tertaining the  Nazarene  in  his  dwelling.  Or 
he  might  go  to  him  when  he  was  teaching  in 
public,  but  then  it  would  be  seen  and  known 
of  all  men  that  he  had  paid  him  an  open  mark 
of  respect.  He  was  not  prepared  to  face 
either  of  these  alternatives  ;  he  was  too  timid, 
thought  too  much  of  what  his  companions  and 
friends  and  the  general  public  of  the  city  might 
think  or  say.  Yet  he  is  too  eager  to  throw  the 
chance  away.     He  must  see  Jesus,  and  as  liis 


278      The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus. 

fears  keep  him  from  going  to  or  sending  for 
him  by  day,  he  goes  by  night,  breaks  in  upon 
his  retirement,  asks  and  obtains  the  audience. 
There  was  something  wrong,  no  doubt,  in  his 
chooshig  such  a  time  and  way  for  the  interview. 
It  would  have  been  a  manher,  more  heroic 
thing  for  him  to  have  braved  all  danger,  and 
risen  above  all  fear  of  man.  But  whatever 
blame  we  may  choose  on  this  ground  to  attach 
to  Nicodemus,  let  it  not  obscure  our  percep- 
tion of  his  obvious  honesty  and  earnestness,  his 
hitense  desire  for  further  enlightenment,  his 
willingness  to  receive  instruction.  He  came 
by  night,  but  he  was  the  only  one  of  his  order 
who  came  at  all.  He  came  by  night,  but  it 
was  not  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity,  but  in  the 
disquiet  of  a  half-awakened  conscience  to  seek 
for  peace.  Rabbi,  he  says,  as  soon  as  he  finds 
himself  in  Christ's  presence.  He  salutes  him 
with  all  respect.  The  Rabbis  of  the  Temple 
would  have  scorned  the  claim  of  one  so  young 
m  years,  unknown  in  any  of  their  schools,  who 
had  given  no  proof  of  his  acquaintance  with 
their  laws  and  their  traditions, — to  be  regarded 
as  one  of  them.  But  the  Ruler,  in  all  likeli- 
hood by  many  years  Christ's  senior,  and  one 
who  on  other  grounds  might  have  counted  on 


The  Conteesation  with  Nicodemus.      279 

being  the  saluted  rather  than  the  sahiter,  does 
not  hesitate  to  address  him  thus  :  "  Rabbi,  we 
know  that  thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God  : 
for  no  man  can  do  these  miracles  that  thou 
doest  except  God  be  with  him."  He  shows  at 
once  his  respect,  his  candor,  his  intelligence, 
and  his  faith.  He  does  not  doubt  that  those 
are  real  miracles  which  Jesus  has  been  work- 
ing ;  he  is  ready  to  trace  to  its  true  source  the 
power  employed  in  their  accomplishment  ;  he 
is  prepared  at  once  to  acknowledge  that  the 
worker  of  such  miracles  must  be  one  sent  and 
sanctioned  by  God.  In  saying  so,  he  knows 
that  he  is  saying  more  than  perhaps  any  other 
man  of  his  station  in  Jerusalem  would  be  ready 
to  say.  He  thinks  that  he  says  enough  to  win 
for  himself  a  favorable  reception.  Yet,  he  is 
speaking  far  below  the  truth,  much  under  his 
own  half-formed  conceptions  and  beliefs.  It  is 
but  as  a  teacher,  not  as  a  prophet,  nmch  less 
the  great  Prophet,  that  he  addresses  Jesus. 

One  might  have  expected  that,  having  ad- 
dressed him  as  such,  he  would  go  on  to  put 
the  questions  to  which  he  presumed  that  such 
a  teacher  could  give  replies.  But  he  pauses, 
perhaps  imagining  that,  gratified  by  such  a 
visit,  pleased  at  being  saluted  thus  by  one  of 


280       The  Conyersation  with  Nicodemus. 

the  rulers,  Jesus  will  salute  him  in  return,  and 
save  him  the  trouble  of  inquiry  by  making 
some  disclosures  of  the  new  doctrine  which, 
as  a  teacher  sent  from  God,  he  had  come  to 
teach ;  or  by  telling  him  something  more 
about  that  new  kingdom  which  so  many  were 
expecting  to  see  set  up.  How  surprised  he 
must  have  been  when  so  abruptly,  yet  so  sol- 
emnly, without  exchange  of  salutation  or  word 
of  preface,  Jesus  says,  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say 
unto  you,  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he 
cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  Such  a  man 
as  Nicodemus  could  scarcely  have  been  so 
stupid  as  to  believe  that,  in  speaking  of  being 
born  again,  Jesus  meant  a  second  birth  of  the 
body.  He  is  so  disconcerted,  however,  disap- 
pointed, perplexed,  besides  being  perhaps  a  lit- 
tle irritated,  by  both  the  manner  and  the  sub- 
stance of  the  grave,  emphatic  utterance — one 
which,  however  general  in  its  terms,  was  ob- 
viously spoken  with  a  direct  and  personal  ref- 
erence— that,  in  his  confusion,  he  seizes  upon 
the  expression  as  the  only  one  that  had  as  yet 
conveyed  any  definite  idea  to  his  mind.  As 
affording  him  some  ground  of  exception,  some 
material  for  reply,  and  taking  it  in  its  literal 
sense,  he  says  :  How  can  a  man  be  born  again 


The  Conyersation  with  Nicodemus.       281 

when  he  is  old,  old  as  I  am  ?  Can  he  enter 
the  second  time  into  his  mother's  womb,  and 
be  born?  The  wise  and  gentle  teacher  in 
whose  hands  he  now  is,  takes  no  notice  of  the 
folly  or  petulance  of  the  remark.  He  reiter- 
ates what  he  had  said,  modifying,  however,  his 
expressions,  so  that  Nicodemus  could  not  fail 
to  see  of  what  kind  of  second  birth  it  was  that 
he  was  speaking:  "  Yerily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  Except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  of 
the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

Had  Nicodemus  only  had  time  at  first  to 
collect  his  thoughts,  he  would  have  remem- 
bered that  it  was  no  new  term,  framed  now 
for  the  first  time,  that  Jesus  had  been  employ- 
ing in  speaking  of  a  second  birth  ;  it  being  a 
proverbial  expression  with  his  countrymen 
with  reference  to  those  who  became  proselytes 
to  the  Jewish  faith,  and  were  admitted  as  such 
into  the  Jewish  community,  that  they  were  as 
men  new-born.  The  outward  mode  of  admit- 
ting such  proselytes  to  the  enjoj^ment  of  Jew- 
ish privileges  was  by  baptism,  by  washing  with 
water.  John,  had  adopted  this  rite,  and  by 
demanding  that  all  Jews  should  be  baptized 
with  the  baptism  of  repentance,  as  a  prepara- 


282        Tbde  Conteesation  with  Nicodemus. 

tion  on  their  part  for  the  commg  of  the  kmg- 
dom,  he  had  in  fact  already  proclaimed,  that, 
as  every  heathen  man  became  as  a  new  man 
on  entering  into  the  commonwealth  of  Israel, 
so  every  Jewish  man  must  become  a  new  man 
before  entering  into  that  new  kingdom  which 
the  Messiah  was  to  introduce  and  establish. 
It  was  virtually  to  symbolize  the  importance 
and  necessity  of  repentance — that  change  of 
mind  and  heart  which  formed  the  burden  of 
his  preaching,  as  a  qualification  in  all  candi- 
dates for  admission  into  the  kingdom — that 
John  came  baptizing  with  water.  But  he 
took  great  pains  to  inform  his,  hearers  that, 
while  he  baptized  with  water,  there  was  one 
coming  immediately,  who  was  to  baptize  with 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Was  it  likely  then,  or  we 
may  even  say,  was  it  possible  that,  when  Nico- 
demus now  heard  Jesus  say,  "  Except  a  man 
be  born  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,"  he  could  fail 
to  perceive  the  allusion  to  the  water  baptism 
of  John  and  the  Spirit  baptism  of  the  Messiah  ? 
In  common  with  all  his  countrymen,  Nicode- 
mus had  assumed  that,  be  it  what  it  might, 
come  how  or  when  it  might,  the  Messianic 
Kingdom  would  be  one  withui  which  their  very 


The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus.      283 

birth  as  Jews  would  entitle  them  to  be  ranked. 
The  popular  delusion  John  had  already,  by  his 
baptism  and  his  teaching,  done  something  to 
rectify.  The  full  truth  it  was  reserved  for 
Jesus  to  proclaim,  and  he  does  it  now  to  Nico- 
demus.  This  master  in  Israel  has  come  to 
Jesus  to  be  taught ;  let  him  know  then  that  it 
is  not  a  new  doctrine,  but  a  new  life  which 
Jesus  has  come  to  proclaim  and  to  impart.  It 
is  not  by  knowing  so  much,  or  believing  in 
such  truths,  or  practising  such  duties  that  a 
man  is  to  qualify  himself  for  becoming  a  subject 
of  the  spiritual  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ.  First 
of  aU,  as  a  necessary  preliminary,  he  must  be 
born  again  ;  born  of  the  Spirit,  have  spiritual 
hfe  imparted,  before  he  can  see  so  as  to  appre- 
hend its  real  nature,  before  he  can  enter  so  as 
to  partake  of  its  true  privileges,  the  kingdom 
of  God.  This  kingdom  is  not  an  outward  or  a 
national  one,  not  the  kingdom  of  a  creed,  or 
of  an  external  organized  community.  It  is  a 
xingdom  exclusively  of  the  new-born — of  those 
who  have  been  begotten  of  the  Spirit — of  those 
who  have  been  born  again,  not  of  blood,  nor 
of  the  flesh,  nor  of  ^iie  will  of  man,  but  of  God. 
For  that  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and 
that  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit  is  spirit. 


284      The  Conteesation  with  Nicodemus. 

A  mystic  thing  it  looks  to  N'icodemus,  this 
second  birth, — this  birth  of  the  Spirit  •  secret, 
invisible,  impalpable  ;  its  origin  and  issues  hid- 
den, remote.  Marvel  not,  says  Jesus,  at  its 
mysteriousness.  The  night  is  quiet  around 
you,  z)ot  a,  sound  of  bending  branch  or  rustling 
leaf  comes  from  the  neighboring  wood  ;  but 
now  the  air  is  stirred  as  by  an  invisible  hand  ; 
the  sigh  of  the  night-breeze  comes  through  the 
bending  branches  and  rustling  leaves  ;  you 
hear  the  sound  ;  but  who  can  take  you  to  that 
breeze's  birthplace,  and  show  you  where  and 
how  it  was  begotten  ;  who  can  carry  you  to  its 
place  of  sepulchre,  and  show  you  where  and 
how  it  died  ?  Not  that  the  wind — the  air  in 
motion, — is  a  whit  more  willful  or  capricious,  or 
less  obedient  to  fixed  laws  than  any  other  ele- 
ments, or  is  chosen  upon  that  account  to  repre- 
sent the  operations  of  God's  Spirit  on  the  souls 
of  men.  All  its  movements  are  fixed  and 
orderly  ;  but  as  the  movements  of  an  invisible 
agent,  they  elude  our  observation  ;  nor  if  3^ou 
sought  for  a  material  emblem  of  that  hidden- 
ness  with  which  the  Holy  Spirit  works,  could 
you  find  in  the  whole  creation  one  more  apt 
than  that  which  Jesus  used,  when  he  said  to 
Nicodemus,  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  list- 


The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus.       285 

eth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but 
canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh  or  whither  it 
goeth  :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit." 

Already  a  dim  apprehension  of  that  for 
which  he  was  being  apprehended  of  Christ  has 
begun  to  dawn  upon  Nicodemus.  He  receives 
the  truth  as  affirmed  by  Jesus  as  to  the  neces- 
sity of  the  new  birth.  He  begins  even  to 
understand  something  as  to  its  nature.  Yet 
a  haze  still  hangs  over  it.  He  wonders  and  he 
doubts, — giving  expression  to  his  feelings  in 
the  question,  "  How  can  these  things  be  ?" 

If  Christ's  answer  may  be  taken  as  the  best 
interpretation  of  this  question,  Nicodemus  was 
now  troubling  himself  not  so  much  either  with 
the  nature  or  the  necessity  of  the  new  birth,  as 
with  the  manner  of  its  accomphshment ;  the 
kind  of  instrumentality  by  which  so  great  an 
inward  change  was  to  be  efiected;  for,  read 
aright,  our  Lord's  reply  is  not  only  a  descrip- 
tion of  that  instrumentality,  but  an  actual  em- 
ployment of  it.  First,  however,  a  gentle  re- 
buke must  be  given  :  Art  thou  a  master  of 
Israel,  and  knowest  not  these  things  ?  Hast 
thou  forgotten  all  that  is  written  in  the  book 
of  the  law  and  in  the  prophets,  about  the  com- 


286       The  Contersation  with  Nicodemus. 

ing  of  those  days  in  which  the  Lord  would  pour 
out  his  Spirit  upon  all  flesh  ;  about  the  new 
covenant  that  the  Lord  would  then  enter  into 
with  his  people,  one  of  whose  two  great  provi- 
sions was  to  be  this  :  "I  will  give  them  one 
heart,  and  I  will  put  a  new  spirit  within  you  ; 
and  I  will  take  the  stony  heart  out  of  their 
flesh,  and  will  give  them  an  heart  of  flesh  ?" 
(£zek.  xi.  19.)  "What  had  so  often  and  so  long 
beforehand  been  thus  spoken  of  was  now  about 
to  be -executed.  The  Spirit  of  God  was  wait- 
ing to  .do  his  gracious  work,  in  begetting  many 
sons  and  daughters  to  the  Lord.  Let  Nicode- 
mus be  assured  of  this,  on  the  testimony  of  one 
whose  knowledge  of  the  spirit-world  was  im- 
mediate and  complete.  He  had  spoken  very 
confidently  about  his  knowledge  of  Jesus.  We 
know,  he  had  said,  thou  art  a  teacher  sent  from 
God.  Let  him  listen  now  to  words  of  equal 
confidence,  which  no  mere  human  teacher, 
though  he  were  even  sent  by  God,  could  well, 
upon  such  a  subject,  have  employed  :  "  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  We  speak  that  we  do 
know,  and  testify  that  we  have  seen  ;  and  ye 
receive  not  our  witness."  '  This  work  of  the 
Spirit  in  regenerating  is  connected  with  another 
■ — my  own — in  redeeming.     The  one  is  but  aa 


The  Conyeesation  with  Nicodemus.       287 

earthly  operation  ;  a  work  performed  within 
men's  souls  :  but  the  other,  how  high  have  you 
to  rise  to  trace  it  to  its  source  ;  how  far  to  go 
to  follow  it  to  its  issues  ?  "  If  I  have  told  you 
these  earthly  things,  and  ye  believe  not,  how 
shall  ye  beheve  if  I  tell  you  of  heavenly 
things  ?" 

*  And  yet  who  can  speak  of  these  heavenly 
things  as  I  can  do !  You  take  me,  Nicodemus, 
to  be  a  teacher  sent  from  God,  perhaps  you 
might  even  acknowledge  me  as  a  prophet  ;  but 
know  me  that  I  am  no  other  than  He,  the  Son 
of  man,  the  Son  of  God,  comhig  down  from 
heaven,  ascending  to  heaven,  but  leaving  not 
heaven  behind  me  in  my  descent,  bringing  it 
along  with  me  ;  while  here  on  earth,  being  still 
in  heaven.  "  No  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  hath 
ascended  up  to  heaven,  but  he  that  came  down 
from  heaven,  even  the  Son  of  man  which  is  in 
heaven."  ' 

And  having  thus  proclaimed  the  ground  and 
certainty  of  his  knowledge  of  all  the  earthly 
and  all  the  heavenly  things  pertaining  to  the 
kingdom,  Jt^sus  goes  on  to  preach  his  own  gos- 
pel beforehand  to  Nicodemus,  taking  the  lifting 
up  of  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  as  the  type 
to  illustrate  his  own  approaching  hfting-up  on 


288        The  Conteesation  with  Nicodemus. 

the  cross,  declaring  this  to  be  the  great  and 
gracious  design  of  his  death,  that  whosoever 
beheveth  in  him  might  not  perish  but  have 
eternal  life  :  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world,  that 
he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  ;  that  whosoever 
beheveth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  hfe." 

It  does  not  fall  within  our  scope  to  illustrate 
at  large  or  attempt  to  enforce  the  great  truths 
about  the  one  and  only  manner  of  entering 
into  Christ's  spiritual  kingdom  ;  about  the  uni- 
versal need  of  the  Spirit-birth  in  order  to  make 
this  entrance  ;  about  his  own  character  and 
ofi&ce  ;  the  manner  and  objects  of  his  death  ; 
the  faith  which,  trusting  to  him,  brings  with  it 
everlasting  life  ;  the  moral  guilt  that  lies  in  the 
act  of  rejecting  him  as  a  Redeemer  ;  the  true 
character  of  that  temper  of  mind  and  heart 
which  prompts  to  faith  on  the  one  side,  and  to 
unbehef  on  the  other,  which  are  all  brought 
out  in  the  discourse  of  our  Lord  to  Nicodemus. 
But  it  does  fall  precisely  within  our  present  de- 
sign that  I  ask  you  to  reflect  a  moment  or  two, 
—first,  upon  the  Time  at  which  this  discourse 
was  dehvered  ;  and  next,  as  to  its  Eflect  upon 
him  to  whom  it  was  addressed. 

It  was  dehvered  weeks  or  months  before  the 


The  Conyeesation  with  Nicodemus.       289 

Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  any  other  of  Christ's 
pubhc  addresses  to  the  people.  Standing  in 
time  the  first,  it  stands  in  character  alone. 
You  search  in  vain  through  all  the  subsequent 
discourses  of  our  Lord  for  any  such  clear  com- 
pendious comprehensive  development  of  the 
Christian  salvation  :  of  its  source  in  the  love  of 
the  Father  ;  its  channel  in  the  death  of  his  only 
begotten  Son;  and  of  the  great  Agent  by 
whom  it  is  appropriated  and  applied.  You 
search  in  vain  for  any  other  instance  in  which 
the  three  persons  of  the  Trinity  were  spoken  of 
by  our  Lord  consecutively  and  conjunctly  ;  to 
each  being  assigned  his  proper  part  m  the  econ- 
om}^  of  our  redemption.  It  may  even  be 
doubted  whether  in  the  whole  range  of  the 
apostolic  epistles  there  be  a  passage  of  equal 
length  in  which  the  manner  of  our  salvation 
through  Christ  is  as  fully  and  distinctly  de- 
scribed. 

Delivered  thus  at  the  very  beginning  of  our 
Lord's  ministry,  it  utters  a  loud  and  unam- 
biguous protest  against  the  error  of  those  who 
would  have  us  to  believe  that  there  was  a  de- 
cided and  essential  difference  between  the  ear- 
lier and  later  teachings  of  our  Saviour ;  be- 
tween the  doctrine  taught  by  Christ,  and  that 


290       The  Conyersation  with  Nicodemus. 

taught  afterwards  by  his  apostles.  It  is  quite 
true,  that  until  within  a  few  months  of  the  final 
decease  accomplished  at  Jerusalem,  our  Lord 
studiously  avoided  all  reference  to  his  death. 
It  is  quite  true,  that,  in  not  a  single  instance — 
not  even  where  one  would  most  naturally  have 
expected  it — in  the  prayer  that  he  taught  to 
his  disciples, — is  there  an  allusion  by  Jesus  to 
that  death,  as  supplying  the  ground  of  our  for- 
giveness. But  that  this  marked  silence  is  mis- 
interpreted, when  it  is  inferred  that  he  did  not 
assign  to  it  that  place  and  importance  given  to 
it  afterwards,  we  have  here,  in  this  discourse 
to  Nicodemus,  the  most  convincing  proof.  I 
shall  have  occasion  hereafter  to  refer  to  those 
considerations  by  which  our  Saviour  was  obvi- 
ously influenced  during  the  course  of  his  per- 
sonal ministry  in  not  pubhcly  unfolding  the 
doctrine  of  the  Cross.  Let  those,  however,  who 
delight  to  dwell  on  the  simple  and  pure  moral- 
ity of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  to  con- 
trast it  with  the  doctrinal  theology  of  the  apos- 
tles, declaring  their  preference  for  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Master  above  that  of  his  disciples, 
but  ponder  well  this  first  of  all  our  Lord's  dis- 
courses, and  they  will  see  that  instead  of  any 
conflict  there  is  a  perfect  harmony. 


The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus.        291 

But  if  he  never  afterwards  unfolded  his  gos- 
pel so  plainly  or  so  fully,  why  did  he  do  so 
now  ;  why  reveal  so  much  to  Nicodemus  that 
he  appears  to  have  withheld  from  the  multi- 
tude ?  Am  I  wrong  in  regarding  this  as  due 
in  part  to  the  very  circumstance  that  this  was 
a  nocturnal  and  a  sohtary  niterview  with  Nico- 
demus ?  No  one  but  this  ruler  of  the  Jews 
may  have  heard  the  words  that  Jesus  spake 
that  night,  and  he  would  be  the  last  man  to  go 
and  repeat  them  to  others.  There  is  good 
reason  to  believe  that  the  Gospel  of  St.  John 
was  written  and  published  some  years  after 
those  of  the  other  Evangelists.  It  is  in  the 
Gospel  of  St.  John  alone  that  the  interview 
with  Nicodemus  is  recorded.  The  other  Evan- 
gelists appear  to  have  been  ignorant  of  it. 
How  the  beloved  disciple  came  to  his  knowledge 
of  it,  it  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  inquire.  He 
may  have  received  it  from  the  hps  of  Nicode- 
mus himself.  Enough  for  us  to  know  that  it 
was  not  currently  reported  in  the  Church  till 
St.  John  gave  it  circulation.  At  any  rate  we 
may  be  sure  that  it  remained  unknown  all 
through  the  period  of  our  Lord's  own  life.  It 
was  not,  then,  in  violation  of  the  rule  that  he 
acted  on   afterwards  that  he   spoke   now  so 


292      The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus. 

plainly  and  fully  as  he  did  to  Nicodemus.  It 
was  a  rare  opportunity,  one  that  never  per- 
haps returned,  to  have  before  him  one  so  qual- 
ified by  capacity,  by  acquirement,  by  honesty, 
by  earnestness,  to  receive  the  truth ;  and  the 
very  manner  in  which  the  Saviour  hastened  to 
reveal  it,  is  to  us  the  proof  that  he  saw  good 
soil  here  into  which  to  cast  the  seed,  and  the 
proof  too  how  grateful  to  hhn  the  office  of  his 
hand  in  sowing  it. 

He  knew  indeed  that  the  seed  then  sown 
was  long  to  be  dormant.  For  three  years  there 
was  no  token  of  its  germination.  Nicodemus 
never  sought  a  second  interview  with  Jesus, 
but  kept  studiously  aloof.  Once,  indeed,  and 
it  is  the  only  sight  throughout  three  years  that 
we  get  of  him,  he  ventured  to  say  a  word  in 
the  Council  against  a  hasty  arrest  and  condem- 
nation of  Jesus,  but  he  met  with  such  a  sharp 
rebufif  that  he  never  opened  his  lips  again.  The 
memorable  words,  however,  of  the  midnight 
meeting  at  Jerusalem  had  not  been  forgotten. 
There  was  much  in  them  that  he  could  not  un- 
derstand. Who  was  He  who  had  spoken  of 
himself  as  the  Son  of  man,  the  Son  of  God  ^ 
of  his  ascending  and  descending  to  and  from 
heaven  j  of  being  in  heaven  even   when   he 


The  Conveesation  with  Nicodemus.      293 

stood  there  on  earth  ?  He  had  spoken  of  his 
being  lifted  up,  that  men  might  beheve  in  him, 
and,  beheving,  might  not  perish,  but  have  ev- 
erlasting life.  What  could  that  lifting  up  of 
Jesus  be,  and  how  upon  it  could  there  hang 
such  issues  ?  Much  to  perplex  here,  yet  much 
to  stimulate  ;  for  that  life,  that  eternal  life,  of 
which  Christ  had  spoken,  was  the  very  hfe  that 
above  all  things  he  was  longing  to  possess  and 
realize.  In  this  troubled  state  of  mind  and 
heart,  with  what  an  anxious  eye  would  Nico- 
demus watch  the  after-current  of  our  Lord's 
history  !  For  a  year  and  a  half  he  had  disap- 
peared from  Judea  ;  was  heard  of  only  as  say- 
ing and  doing  wonders  down  in  Galilee.  Then 
came  the  final  visit  to  the  capital,  the  great 
commotion  in  the  Temple,  the  raising  of  Laz- 
arus, the  seizure,  the  trial,  the  condemnation. 
Was  Nicodemus  present,  with  the  rest  of  that 
Council  of  which  he  was  a  member,  on  the 
morning  of  the  crucifixion  ?  If  he  was,  he  must 
ingloriously  have  kept  silence,  for  the  vote 
was  unanimous.  I  would  rather  believe,  from 
what  happened  on  the  after  part  of  that  day, 
that  he  was  not  present,  did  not  obey  the 
hasty  summons.  With  him  or  without  him,  the 
verdict  is  given.     The  Ucense  to  crucify  is  ex- 


294:      The  Conversation  witu  Nicodemxjs. 

torted  from  the  vacillating  Governor  ;  the  cross 
is  raised. 

At  last,  the  words  that  three  years  before 
had  sounded  in  the  ruler's  listening  car,  and 
which  had  since  been  frequently  recalled,  the 
mystery  of  their  meaning  unrevealed,  are  veri- 
fied and  explained.  The  cross  is  raised  ;  Jesus 
is  lifted  up.  The  darkened  heavens,  the  reel- 
ing earth,  the  prayer  for  his  crucifiers,  the 
promise  to  the  penitent  who  dies  beside  him, 
the  voice  of  triumph  at  the  close,  proclaim  the 
death  of  that  only  begotten  Son  of  God,  whom 
He  had  given  to  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
The  scales  drop  off  from  the  eyes  they  so  long 
had  covered.  Fear  goes  out,  and  faith  comes 
into  Nicodemus'  breast,  a  faith  that  plants  him 
by  Joseph's  side  in  the  garden,  and  unites  their 
hands  in  the  rendering  of  the  last  services  to 
the  body,  which  they  buried  in  the  new  sep- 
ulchra. 

What  a  flood  of  light  fell  then  on  the  hither- 
to mysterious  words  of  the  Crucified ;  what  a 
rich  treasure  of  comfort  would  the  meditation 
of  them  unfold  all  his  life  long  afterwards  to 
Nicodemus  ;  and  what  an  honor  to  him  that  he 
was  chosen  as  the  man  to  whom  were  first  ad- 
dressed those  words  which  have  comforted  so 


The  Conversation  with  Nicodemus.      295 

many  millions  since,  and  are  destined  to  comfort 
so  many  millions  more  in  the  years  that  are  to 
come  :  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave 
his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believ- 
eth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlast- 
ing life !" 


XIV. 

THE   WOMAN   OF   SAMAKIA.* 

COMING,  as  he  did,  to  a  community  that 
had  long  been  accustomed  to  act  in  its 
corporate  capacity  as  a  nation  in  covenant  with 
God  ;  coming  to  be  nationally  received  or  na- 
tionally rejected  as  the  Messiah  ;  a  reception 
or  rejection  which  could  only  be  embodied  in 
some  decisive  expression  of  the  will  of  the  na- 
tion, made  through  its  authorized  heads  and 
representatives, — our  natural  expectation  is 
that  Christ's  public  manifestation  of  himself 
would  be  made  principally  in  Judea  and  at 
Jerusalem.  And  the  actual  opening  of  his 
public  ministry  convinces  us  that  had  no  check 
or  hindrance  been  interposed,  had  any  readi- 
ness been  shown  by  the  rulers  of  the  people  to 
look  favorably  on  his  character  and  claims, 
Judea  and   Jerusalem  would   have   been   the 

*  John  iv. 


The  Woman  of  Samaeia.  297 

chief  scene  of  his  hibors.  For  before  he  opened 
his  Hps  as  a  teacher  sent  from  God,  to  any 
Galilean  audience  or  in  any  provincial  syna- 
gogue, he  presented  himself  in  the  capital,  and 
by  a  bold  and  striking  act,  fitted  to  draw  all 
eyes  upon  him,  asserted  his  authority  within 
the  Temple,  as  the  house  of  his  Father,  which 
it  became  him  to  cleanse.  The  bold  beginning 
was  well  sustained  both  by  word  and  deed,  but 
no  favorable  impression  was  made.  The  only 
one  of  the  Rulers  who  made  any  approach 
came  to  him  by  night,  and  went  away  to  lock 
up  deep  within  his  breast  the  wonderful  revela- 
tion that  was  made  to  him.  Jesus  retired  from 
Jerusalem,  but  lingered  still  in  Judea,  spending 
the  summer  months  which  succeeded  the  Pass- 
over in  some  district  of  the  country,  not  far 
from  that  in  which  John  was  baptizing.*  It 
seems  strange  to  us  that  after  the  sign  from 
heaven  had  been  given  that  the  greater  than  he 
had  appeared,  instead  of  joining  himself  to 
Jesus,  as  one  of  his  disciples,  John  should  have 
kept  aloof,  and  continued  baptizing,  preserving 

*  As  yet  all  attempts  have  failed  to  identify  the  ^non  near  Salim, 
to  which  from  the  banks  of  the  Jordan  John  had  now  removed. 
It  will,  in  all  probability,  be  discovered  somewhere  northeast  of 
Jerusalem,  so  situated  that  the  way  from  it  into  GaUlee  lay  natur- 
ally through  Samaria. 


298  The  Woman  of  Samaria. 

thus  a  separate  following  of  Lis  own.     And  it 
seems  equally  strange,   that  now  for  a  short 
time,  and  for  this  short  time  only,  our  Lord's 
disciples — the  men  who  had  voluntarily  attached 
themselves  to  him,  none  of  whom  had  as  yet 
been  separated  from  their  earthly  callings,  or 
set  apart  as  those  through  whom  a  new  order 
of  things  was  to  be  instituted — should  also  have 
er  gaged  in  baptizing,  if  not  at  the  suggestion, 
yet  by  the  permission  and  under  the  sanction 
of  their   Master.     Whatever  reasons  we  may 
assign  for  the  separate  baptisms  of  John  and 
Jesus  being  for  this  short  season  contemporan- 
eously sustained,  they  serve  to  bring  out  fully 
and  in  striking  contrast  the  character  and  dis- 
position towards  Jesus  of  the  Pharisees  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  the  Baptist  on  the  other.     At 
first,  in  Judea  as  in  Galilee,  the  common  peo- 
ple  heard  Christ   gladly,  and   came   in   great 
numbers  to  be  baptized.     This  for  the  Phari- 
sees is  a  new  matter  of  offence,  out.  of  which, 
however,  they  construct  an  implement  of  mis- 
chief, which  they  hasten  to  employ.     There  can 
be  little  doubt  that  the  question  which  arose 
between    John's    disciples    and   the  Jews  waa 
stirred  by  the  latter,  had  respect  to  the  relative 
value  of  the  two  baptisms,  and  was  intended  to 


The  'WoM.iN  of  S.oiaria.  299 

sow  the  seeds  of  dissension  between  the  two 
discipleships.  Fresh  from  the  dispute,  and 
heated  by  it,  some  of  John's  disciples  came  to 
him,  and  said  unto  him,  evidently  with  the  tone 
of  men  complaining  of  a  grievance  by  which 
their  feelings  have  been  hurt :  "  Rabbi,  he 
that  was  with  thee  beyond  Jordan,  to  whom 
thou  bearest  witness,  behold,  the  same  baptiz- 
eth,  and  all  men  come  to  him." 

We  may  be  all  ready  enough  to  acknowledge 
the  superiority  of  another  to  ourselves  in  regard 
to  qualities  or  acts  in  which  we  never  sought 
for  prominence  or  praise.  Even  as  to  those 
qualities  and  acts  in  which  we  may  have  our- 
selves excelled,  we  may  not  be  unwilling  to 
confess  the  superiority  of  another,  provided 
that  we  do  not  come  into  direct  comparison  with 
him,  in  presence  of  those  who  embody  the  ex- 
pression of  their  preference  in  some  marked 
piece  of  conduct.  But  it  does  subject  our 
weak  nature  to  an  extreme  trial  when,  by  his 
side,  in  the  very  region  in  which  he  has  attained 
extraordinary  and  unlooked  for  success,  a  man 
sees  another  rise  whose  success  so  far  outstrips 
his  own  as  to  throw  it  wholly  into  the  shade. 
Remember,  now,  that  the  Baptist  was  but  a 
man,  with  all  the  common  infirmities  of  our 


300  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

nature  clinging  to  liim  ;  that  up  to  the  time  he 
had  baptized  Jesus,  his  course  had  been  one  of 
unparalleled  popularity  ;  that  from  that  time  the 
tide  of  the  popular  favor  began  to  ebb  away 
from  him,  and  to  rise  around  this  other,  till  at 
last  he  hears  the  tidings,  He  baptizeth,  and  all 
men  now  go  to  him.  And  then,  listen  to  his 
answer  to  the  complaint  of  his  disciples  :  *'  A 
man,"  he  said,  "can  receive  nothing,  except  it 
be  given  him  from  heaven."  'This  growing 
baptism  of  Jesus,  this  lesser  baptism  of  mine, 
are  both  as  Heaven  has  willed.  The  multi- 
tudes that  once  flocked  to  me  were  sent  by 
God  ;  the  power  which  I  had  over  them  I  got 
from  God  ;  and  if  the  Lord  who  sent  and  gave 
is  pleased  now  to  withdraw  them  from  me,  to 
bestow  them  upon  another,  still  will  I  adore  his 
name.  Nor  is  it  bare  submission  to  his  will  I 
cherish.  I  hear  of  and  I  rejoice  at  the  success 
of  Christ.  **  Ye  yourselves  bear  me  witness, 
that  I  said,  I  am  not  the  Christ,  but  that  I  am 
sent  before  him.  He  that  hath  the  bride  is  the 
bridegroom  :  but  the  friend  of  the  bridegroom, 
wliich  standeth  and  heareth  him,  rejoiceth 
greatly  because  of  the  bridegroom's  voice. 
This  my  joy  therefore  is  fulfilled.  He  must 
increase,   but   I   must  decrease." '     Rare  and 


The  Woman  of  Samaeia.  301 

beautiful  instance  of  an  uneii vying  humility ! 
all  the  rarer  and  more  beautiful  as  occurring 
not  in  one  of  weak  and  gentle  nature,  but  in 
a  character  of  mascuhne  energy,  in  which  are 
often  to  be  found  only  the  stronger  passions  of 
humanity.  A  rare  and  beautiful  sight  it  is  to 
Bee  the  gentle  Jonathan  not  only  give  way  to 
David,  as  successor  to  his  father's  kingdom,  but 
content  to  stand  by  David's  side,  and  live  under 
the  shadow  of  his  throne  ;  but  a  rarer,  1  be- 
lieve, and  still  more  beautiful  thing  it  is  to  see 
the  strong-willed  Baptist  not  only  make  room 
for  Jesus,  but  rejoice  that  his  own  light,  which 
had  **  shone  out  so  brilliantly,  enlightening  for 
a  season  the  whole  Jewish  heavens,  faded  away 
and  sunk  out  of  sight  in  the  beams  of  the 
rising  Sun  of  righteousness,"  And  John's  final 
testimony  upon  this  occasion  to  the  character 
and  office  of  Jesus  is  as  striking  as  the  invol- 
untary display  that  he  makes  of  his  own  char- 
acter, going  much  beyond  what  he  had  said 
before,  and  containing  much  that  bears  a  sin- 
gular likeness  to  what  Jesus  had  shortly  before 
said  of  himself  to  Nicodemus  :  "He  that  com- 
eth  from  above  is  above  all  ;  he  that  is  of  the 
earth  is  earthly,  and  speaketh  of  the  earth  ;  he 
that  Cometh  from  heaven  is  above  all :  and  what 


302  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

he  hath  seen  and  heard,  that  he  testifieth  ;  and 
no  man  receiveth  his  testimony.  He  that  hath 
received  his  testimony  hath  set-to  his  seal  that 
God  is  true.  For  he  whom  God  hath  sent 
speaketh  the  words  of  God :  for  God  giveth 
not  the  Spirit  by  measure  unto  him.  The 
Father  loveth  the  Son,  and  hath  given  aU  things 
into  his  hand.  He  that  beheveth  on  the  Son 
hath  everlasting  life  :  and  he  that  believe  th  not 
the  Son  shall  not  see  life  ;  but  the  wrath  of 
God  abideth  on  him."* 

Such  was  the  testimony  elicited  from  John 
on  being  told  of  the  large  concourse  of  people 
which  had  gathered  round  Jesus  and  his  dis- 
ciples. Very  different  was  the  effect  which 
this  intelligence  produced  in  Jerusalem.  It 
fanned  the  hostile  feeling  already  kindled  in 
the  breasts  of  the  Pharisees.  How  that  feeling 
might  have  manifested  itself  had  Jesus  con- 
tinued in  Judea,  his  disciples  gone  on  baptiz- 
ing, and  the  people  kept  flocking  to  them,  we 
cannot  tell.  As  from  one  quarter  there  burst 
about  this  time  on  the  head  of  John  the  storm 
that  closed  his  public  career,  so  from  another 
quarter  might  a  storm  have  burst  on  the  head 
of  Jesus  with  like  effect. 

*  John  iii. 


The  Woman  of  Sama.eia.  303 

Foreseeing  the  peril  to  which  he  might  be 
exposed,  Jesus,  "  when  he  knew  how  the 
Pharisees  had  heard  that  he  made  and  bap- 
tized more  disciples  than  John,  left  Judea  and 
departed  again  into  Galilee."  His  nearest  and 
most  direct  route  lay  through  the  central  dis- 
trict of  Samaria.  This  district  was  inhabited 
by  people  of  a  foreign  origin,  and  with  a  some- 
what curious  history.  When  the  king  of 
Assyria  carried  the  Ten  Tribes  into  captivity, 
it  is  said  that,  in  order  to  fill  the  void  which 
their  exile  created,  he  brought  "  men  from 
Babylon,  and  from  Cuthah,  and  from  Ava,  and 
from  Hamath,  and  from  Sepharvain,  and  placed 
them  in  the  cities  of  Samaria  instead  of  the 
children  of  Israel ;  and  they  possessed  Sa- 
maria and  dwelt  in  the  cities  thereof."*  These 
certainly  were  idolaters,  worshippers  of  a 
strange  medley  of  divinities,  and  brought  with 
them  their  old  ftiiths  to  their  new  home. 
Shortly  after  their  settlement,  a  frightful 
plague  visited  them,  and  it  occurred  to  them- 
selves, or  was  suggested  by  the  neighboring 
Israelites,  that  it  had  fallen  upon  them  because 
of  their  not  worshipping  the  old  divinity  of  the 
place.     In  their  alarm  they  sent  an  embassy  to 

*  2  Kings  xvii.  24. 


304  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

their  monarch,  who,  either  humoring  or  shar- 
ing their  fears,  sent  one  of  the  captive  Jewish 
priests  to  instruct  them  in  the  IsraeHtish  faith. 
This  faith  they  at  once  accepted  and  professed, 
combinhigit  with  their  old  idok tries  :  "They 
feared  the  Lord,''  we  are  told,  "and  served 
their  graven  images."*  Gradually,  however, 
they  were  weaned  from  their  ancient  super- 
stitions. When,  under  the  decree  of  Cyrus, 
the  captives  of  Judah  and  Benjamin,  returning 
from  Babylon,  set  about  rebuilding  the  Temple 
at  Jerusalem,  the  Samaritans  proposed  to  join 
them  in  the  work.  The  proposal  was  haugh- 
tily rejected,  and  that  rejection  was  the  first  of 
a  long  series  of  disputes.  A  _  fresh  ground  of 
offence  arose  when  Manasseh,  a  grandson  of 
one,  and  brother  of  another  High  Priest,  had, 
contrary  to  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  Jews, 
married  a  daughter  of  Sanballat,  the  governor 
of  the  province  of  Samaria.  Called  upon  to 
renounce  this  alliance  and  repudiate  his  wife, 
Manasseh,  rather  than  do  so,  fled  from  Jerusa- 
lem, and  put  himself  under  the  protection  of 
his  father-in-law.  A  considerable  number  of 
the  Jews  who  were  dissatisfied  with  the  great 
strictness  with  which  Nehemiah  was  adminis- 

*  2  Kings  xvii.  24. 


The  Woman  of  Samakia,  305 

tering  affairs  at  Jerusalem,  followed  him.  The 
Samaritans,  thus  strengthened  in  numbers,  and 
having  now  a  member  of  one  of  the  highest. 
famiUes  of  the  priesthood  among  them,  erected 
a  rival  temple  on  Mount  Gerizim,  and  set  up 
there  a  ritual  of  worship  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  Mosaic  institute.  Their  history  from 
this  time  to  the  time  of  Christ  is  a  very  che- 
quered one.  Their  territory  was  invaded  by 
John  Hyrcanus,  one  of  the  family  of  the  Mac- 
cabees, who  plundered  their  capital,  and  razing 
the  stately  temple  on  Mount  Gerizim  from  its 
foundations,  left  it  a  heap  of  ruins,  so  that 
when  Jesus  passed  that  way,  an  altar  reared 
on  these  ruins  was  all  that  Gerizim  could 
boast. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  vicissitudes,  and  all 
the  harsh  hostilities  to  which  they  were  exposed, 
the  Samaritans  became  purer  and  purer  in  their 
faith  till  all  relics  of  their  Medo-Persian  idola- 
tries had  disappeared.  They  received,  as  of 
Divine  authority,  the  five  Books  of  Moses,  the 
Pentateuch,  but  they  rejected  all  the  books  of 
history  and  prophecies  which  followed,  and 
which  were  full,  as  the  Jews  believed,  of  inti- 
mations of  the  future  subjection  of  the  whole 
world  to  IsraeUtish  sway,  and  the  establishment 


806  The  "Woman  of  Samaeia. 

of  Jerusalem,  as  the  central  place  of  worship, 
and  the  seat  of  universal  empire. 
.  But  though  the  Jews  despised  the  Samari- 
tans as  a  people  of  a  mixed  origin  and  a  muti- 
lated faith,  and  the  Samaritans  repaid  the  con- 
tempt, we  are  not  to  think  that  the  two  com- 
munities lived  so  much  apart  that  there  was  no 
traffic  or  intercourse  between  them.  There 
was  little  or  no  interchange  of  kindly  or  social 
feehng  ;  but  it  was  quite  within  the  limits  of 
the  common  usage  for  the  disciples  to  go  into 
a  Samaritan  town,  to  buy  bread  for  themselves 
and  their  Master  by  the  way. 

Their  morning's  walk  had  carried  Jesus  and 
his  disciples  across  or  along  the  plain  of  Mukhna 
to  the  entrance  of  that  narrow  valley  which 
lies  between  Mounts  Ebal  and  Gerizim.  Here, 
upon  a  spur  of  the  latter  height,  which  runs 
out  into  the  plain,  was  Jacob's  Well, — the  town 
of  Sychar,  the  ancient  Shechem,  the  modern 
Nablous  lying  about  a  mile  and  a  half  away, 
up  in  the  valley,  at  the  base  of  Gerizim.  It 
was  the  sixth  hour — our  twelve  o'clock — and 
the  Syrian  sun  glared  hotly  upon  the  travellers. 
Wearied  with  the  heat  of  the  day  and  the  toil 
of  the  morning,  Jesus  sat  down  by  the  well- 
side,  while  his  disciples  went  on  to  Sychar  to 


The  Woman  of  Samaeia.  307 

make  the  necessary  purchases.  As  Jesus  is 
sittmg  by  the  well  alone,  a  woman  of  Samaria 
approaches.  He  fixes  his  eye  upon  her  as  she 
comes  near  ;  watches  her  as  she  proceeds  to 
draw  the  water,  waiting  till  the  full  pitcher  is 
upon  the  well-mouth,  and  then  says  to  her, 
"Give  me  to  drink."  He  is  a  Jew  ;  she  knows 
it  by  his  dress  and  speech.  Yet,  as  one  willing 
to  be  indebted  to  her,  he  asks  a  favor  at  her 
hands  ;  a  favor  for  which,  if  his  looks  do  not 
belie  him,  he  will  be  grateful.  Not  as  one  un- 
willing to  grant  the  favor,  but  surprised  at  its 
being  asked,  her  answer  is  :  "  How  is  it  that 
thou,  being  a  Jew,  askest  drink  of  me,  who  am 
a  woman  of  Samaria  ?"  He  will  answer  this 
question,  but  not  in  the  way  that  she  expects. 
The  manner  of  his  dispensation  of  the  great 
gift  he  came  from  heaven  to  bestow  stands  em- 
bodied in  the  words:  "Thou  wouldst  have 
asked,  and  I  would  have  given  thee  the  living 
water."* 

The  woman  has  taken  him  to  be  a  common 

*  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  well  still  shown  to  travellers  near 
Nablous,  is  the  well  of  Jacob.  Its  position  near  to  Sychar :  its 
importance  as  inferred  from  its  dimensions,  being  a  well  of  nine 
feet  in  diameter  and  seventy-five  in  depth  :  cut  out  of  the  solid 
rock,  with  sides  hewn  and  smooth  as  Jacob's  servant's  may  be  sup- 


308  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

Jew,  an  ordinary  wayfarer,  whom  thirst  and  the 
fatigue  of  travel  have  overcome,  forcing   him 


posed  to  have  left  them, — go  far,  of  themselves,  to  ■  determine  its 
identity  ;  and  the  conclusion  is  confirmed  by  an  undivided,  un- 
broken tradition, — Jewish,  Samaritan,  Aiabian,  Turkish,  Chiis- 
tiau. 

Besides  the  absence  of  all  doubt  as  to  its  identity,  there  is  an- 
other circumstance  which  surrounds  it  with  a  peculiar  sacredness. 
It  is  the  one  and  only  hmited  and  well  defined  locality  in  Pales- 
tine that  you  can  connect  with  the  presence  of  the  lledeemer. 
You  cannot  in  all  Palestine  draw  another  circle  of  hmited  diameter 
within  whose  circumference  you  can  be  absolutely  certain  that 
Jesus  once  stood,  except  round  Jacob's  WeU.  I  had  the  greatest 
possible  desu'e  to  tread  that  circle  round  and  round,  to  sit  here 
and  there  and  everywhere  around  that  well-mouth  ;  that  I  might 
gratify  a  long-cherished  wish.  But  never  was  disappointment 
greater  than  the  one  which  I  experienced  when  I  reached  the  spot. 
Close  by  it  in  early  Christian  times,  they  built  a  church,  whose 
ruins  now  cover  the  ground  in  its  immediate  neighborhood.  Over 
the  weU  itself  they  erected  a  vaulted  arch,  through  a  small  open- 
ing in  which,  travellers,  a  hundred  years  ago,  crept  down  into  a 
chamber  ten  feet  square,  which  left  but  a  narrow  margin  on  which 
to  stand  and  look  down  into  the  well.  This  vaulted  covering  has 
now  fallen  in,  choking  up  so  completelj'  the  mouth  of  the  well, 
that  it  is  only  here  and  there,  through  apertures  between  the 
blocks  of  stone,  that  you  can  find  an  entrance  into  the  well.  I 
sf)eak  of  it  as  I  found  it  last  year.  It  must  have  been  more  acces- 
Bible  to  travellers  even  a  few  years  ago  ;  but  year  by  year  the 
rubbish  that  is  constantly  being  thrown  into  it  accumulates,  and 
the  opening  at  the  top  is  becoming  more  closed.  The  Mussulmans 
of  the  neighborhood,  seeing  the  respect  in  which  it  is  held  by 
Christians,  appear  to  take  a  pleasure  in  obstracting  and  defihng 
it.  You  cannot  sit,  then,  by  Jacob's  Well,  or  walk  around  it,  or 
look  down  into  its  waters.  It  is  stated  upon  good  authority,  that 
recently  the  well,  and  the  site  around  it,  have  been  purchased  by 


The  "Woman  of  Samakia.  309 

perhaps  unwillingly  to  ask  for  water  to  drink. 
He  will  fix  her  attention  upon  himself ;  he  will 
stir  up  her  feminine  curiosity  by  teUing  her  that 
he  who  asks  has  something  on  his  part  to  give  ; 
that  if  she  only  knew  who  he  was,  and  what 
that  living  water  was  which  he  had  at  command, 
instead  of  stopping  to  inquire  why  he  had 
asked  water  of  her,  she  would  be  asking  it  of 
him,  and  what  she  asked  he  without  question 
would  have  given.  Living-  water! — better 
water  than  that  which  she  has  in  her  pitcher. 
Could  it  be  by  going  deeper  down,  and  getting 
nearer  to  the  bubbling  spring  beneath,  that  he 
could  get  such  water,  or  was  it  water  of  supe- 
rior quality  from  some  other  well  than  this 
of  Jacob.  Sir,  she  says,  addressing  him  with 
awakening  interest  and  an  increasing  respect : 
"  Sir,"  she  says,  in  her  ignorance  and  confusion, 
"  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well 
is  deep  :  from  whence  then  hast  thou  that  hving 
water?  Art  thou  greater  than  our  father 
Jacob,  who  gave  us  the  well  and  drank  thereof 
himself,  and  his  children,  and  his  cattle  ?"    Her 

the  Kussian  Church.  Let  us  hope  that  they  will  clear  away  all  the 
stones  and  rubbish,  and  leave  it  clear  and  open,  as  Jesus  louud  it, 
when,  weary  and  way-worn,  he  sat  down  beside  it. 


310  The  Woman  of  Samaria. 

thoughts  are  wandering  away  back  to  the  first 
drinkers  at  this  well,  when  its  waters  first  burst 
out  in  their  freshness,  imagining  that  it  must 
be  of  them,  or  of  the  water  of  some  other  neigh- 
boring well,  that  this  stranger  had  been  speak- 
ing. Again,  waiving  as  before  all  direct  reply 
to  her  question,  Jesus  with  increased  solemnity 
says  :  "  Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again  :  but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst  ; 
but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in 
him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlast- 
ing life."  It  is  not  this  water,  then  ;  it  is  no 
common  water  ;  it  is  water  that  this  man  alone 
can  give  ;  water  which  is  not  to  be  taken  in 
draughts,  with  which  you  may  quench  your 
thirst  now,  and  then  wait  till  the  thirst  comes 
back  again  ere  another  draught  be  taken  ;  but 
water  of  which  a  man  should  constantly  be 
drinking,  and  if  he  did  so  would  be  constantly 
satisfied,  so  that  there  would  be  no  recurring 
intervals  of  desire  and  gratification, — this  water 
as  received  turning  into  a  well  within  the  man 
himself,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life.  Be- 
ginning to  understand  a  little,  seeing  this  at 
least,  that  it  was  of  some  element  altogether 
different   from  any  water   that   she   had  ever 


The  Womah  of  Samaeia.  311 

tasted,  yet  dinging  still  to  the  notion  that  it 
must  be  some  kind  of  material  water  that  he 
means, — she  says  :  "  Sir,  give  me  this  water, 
that  I  thirst  not,  neither  come  hither  to  draw." 
One  part  of  Christ's  object  has  now  been 
gained  ;  he  has  awakened  not  an  idle,  but  a 
very  eager  curiosity  ;  he  has  f<jrced  the  wo- 
man's attention  on  himself  as  having  some  great 
benefit  in  his  hand  which  he  is  not  unwilling  to 
bestow.  Through  a  figurative  description  of 
what  this  benefit  is,  he  will  not  or  cannot  carry 
her  further  at  present.  Abruptly  breaking 
the  conversation  off  at  this  point,  he  says  to 
her:  "Go,  call  thy  husband,  and  come  hither." 
With  great  frankness  she  says,  "  I  have  no  hus- 
band.'"' Jesus  said  to  her,  "  Thou  hast  well 
said,  thou  hast  no  husband,  for  thou  hast  had 
five  husbands,  and  he  whom  thou  now  hast  is 
not  thy  husband  ;  in  that  saidst  thou  truly." 
In  the  past  domestic  history  of  this  woman 
there  had  been  much  that  was  pecuHar,  though 
up  to  the  lust  connexion  she  had  formed  there 
may  not  have  been  anything  that  was  sinful. 
Christ's  object,  however,  was  not  so  much  to 
convict  her  of  bygone  or  existing  guilt,  as  to 
convince  her  that  he  was  in  full  possession  of 
all  the  secrets  of  her  past  hfe,  and  so  to  create 


312  The  Woman  of  Samaria. 

within  her  a  belief  in  his  more  than  human  in- 
sight. Not  so  much  as  one  overwhehned  with 
the  sense  of  shame,  but  rather  as  one  surprised 
into  a  new  beUef  as  to  the  character  and  capa- 
biUties  of  the  stranger  who  addresses  her,  she 
rephes,  "  Sir,  I  perceive  that  thou  art  a  pro- 
phet." If  she  had  been  a  woman  of  an  utterly 
abandoned  character,  whose  whole  bygone  life 
had  been  one  series  of  flagrant  offences,  whose 
conscience,  long  seared  with  iniquity,  Christ 
was  now  trying  to  quicken, — very  curious  would 
it  appear  that  so  soon  as  the  quickening  came, 
waiving  all  questions  about  her  own  character, 
she  should  so  instantly  have  put  the  question 
about  the  true  place  of  religious  worship, 
whether  here  at  Gerizim,  or  there  at  Jerusa- 
lem. 

There  may  have  been  an  attempt  to  parry 
conviction,  and  to  turn  aside  the  hand  of  tlw3 
convincer,  by  raising  questions  about  places 
and  forms  of  worship  ;  but  I  cannot  think,  had 
this  been  the  spirit  and  motive  of  this  woman's 
inquiries,  that  Jesus  would  have  dealt  with  them 
as  he  did  ;  for,  treating  them  evidently  as  the 
earnest  inquiries  of  one  wishing  to  be  instructed, 
assuming  all  the  dignity  of  that  office  which 
had  been  attributed  to  him.  he  says  to  her ; 


The  "Woman  of  Samaria.  313 

"Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh — (I  speak 
as  one  before  whose  eye  the  whole  history  of 
the  future  stands  revealed  ;  the  hour  cometh, — 
I  came  myself  into  the  world  to  bring  it  on) — 
when  that  strong  bias  to  worship,  that  lies  so 
deep  in  the  hearts  of  men,  shall  have  found  at 
last  its  one  only  true  and  worthy  object  in  that 
God  and  Father  of  all,  who  made  all,  and  who 
loves  all,  and  has  sent  me  to  reveal  him  to  all ; 
when,  stripped  of  all  the  restraints  that  have 
hitherto  confined  it  to  a  single  people,  a  single 
country,  a  single  town  ;  relieved  of  all  the  sup- 
ports that  were  required  by  it  in  its  weak  and 
tottering  childhood, — the  spirit  of  a  true  piety 
shall  go  forth  in  freedom  over  the  globe,  seek- 
ing for  those — whatever  be  the  places  they 
choose,  the  outward  forms  that  they  adopt, — • 
for  those  who  will  adore  and  love  and  serve 
him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  and  wherever  it  finds 
them,  owning  them  as  the  true  worshippers  of 
the  Father,  Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour 
ccmeth,  when  neither  in  this  mountain  nor  yet 
in  Jerusalem,  nor  here,  nor  there,  nor  any- 
where exclusively,  shall  men  worship  the 
Father.  "  God  is  a  Spirit  ;  and  they  that  wor- 
ship him,  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in 
truth."     The  newness,  the  breadth,  the   sub- 


314  The  Woman  of  Saatatua. 

limity,  if  not  also  the  truth  of  his  teaching,  at 
once  suggested  to  the  mind  of  the  hstener  the 
thought  of  that  Messiah  for  whom  every  Sama- 
ritan and  Jew  ahke  were  looking.  I  know, 
she  said,  that  Messias  cometh.  When  he  is 
come  he-  will  tell  us  all  things.  Jesus  saith  to 
her  :  "  I  that  speak  to  thee  am  he." 

Why  was  it  that  that  which  he  so  long  and 
studiously  concealed  from  the  Jewish  people, 
that  which  he  so  strictly  enjoined  his  disciples 
not  to  make  known  to  them,  was  thus  so  sim- 
ply, clearly  and  directly  told  ?  In  the  woman 
herself  to  whom  the  wonderful  revelation  was 
made,  there  may  have  been  much  to  draw  it 
forth.  The  gentle  surprise  with  which  she 
meets  the  request  of  the  Jewish  stranger  ;  the 
expression  of  respect  she  uses  so  soon  as  he 
begins  to  speak  of  God,  and  some  gift  of  his 
she  might  enjoy  ;  her  guileless  coTifession  when 
once  she  found  she  was  actually  in  a  prophet's 
presence  :  her  instant  readiness  to  believe  that 
Jew  though  he  was — apparently  of  no  note 
or  mark  among  his  brethren — he  was  yet  a 
prophet ;  her  eager  question  about  the  most 
acceptable  way  of  worshipping  the  Most  lligh  ; 
the  quick  occurrence  of  the  coming  Messiah  to 
her    thoughts ;    the    full,  confiding,   generous 


The  Woman  of  Sajmaeia.  315 

faith,  that  she  once  reposed  m  him  when  he 
said,  I  that  speak  unto  thee  am  he  :  her  forget- 
fuhiess  of  lier  individual  errand  to  the  well  ; 
her  leavmg  her  pitcher  there  behind  her  ;  her 
running  into  the  city  to  call  all  the  men  of  Sy- 
char,  saying,  Come,  see  a  man  who  told  me  all 
things  that  ever  I  did,  is  not  this  the  Christ? — 
all  conspire  to  convince  us  that,  sinful  though 
she  was,  she  was  hungering  and  thirsting  after 
righteousness,  waiting  for  the  consolation  of 
Israel,  we  trust  prepared  to  hail  the  Saviour 
when  he  stood  revealed. 

But  besides  her  individual  character,  there 
was  also 'the  circumstance  that  she  was  a  Sa- 
maritan. It  is  the  first  time  that  Jesus  comes 
into  close,  private,  personal  contact  with  one 
who  is  not  of  the  seed  of  Israel  ;  for  though  she 
claimed  Jacob  as  her  father,  neither  this  wo- 
man nor  any  of  the  tribe  she  belonged  to,  were 
of  Jewish  descent.  "I  am  not  come,"  said 
Jesus,  afterwards  defining  the  general  bounda- 
ries of  his  personal  ministry,  "  but  to  the  lost 
sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel."  When  he  sent 
out  the  Seventy,  his  instructions  to  them  were  : 
"  Go  not  into  the  way  of  the  Gentiles,  and  into 
any  city  of  the  Samaritans  enter  ye  not."  And 
yet  there  were  a  few  occasions,  and  this  is  the 


316  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

first  of  them,  in  which  Christ  broke  through 
the  restraints  under  which  it  pleased  him  ordi- 
narily to  act.  I  believe  that  there  are  just  four 
instances  of  this  kind  recorded  in  the  Saviour's 
life  :  that  of  the  woman  of  Samaria,  of  the 
Roman  Centurion,  of  the  Canaanitish  woman, 
of  the  Greeks  who  came  up  to  Jerusalem.  All 
these  were  instances  of  our  Lord's  dealings  with 
those  who  stood  without  the  pale  of  Judaism, 
and  as  we  come  upon  them  in  the  narrative,  we 
shall  be  struck  with  the  singular  interest  which 
Jesus  took  in  each  ;  the  singular  care  that  he 
bestowed  in  testing  and  bringing  out  to  view 
the  simplicity  and  strength  of  the  desire  towards 
him,  and  faith  in  him.  that  were  displayed  ;  the 
fullness  of  the  revelations  of  himself  that  he 
made,  and  of  that  satisfaction  and  delight  with 
which  he  contemplated  the  issue.  It  was  the 
great  and  good  Shepherd,  stretching  out  his 
hand  across  the  fence,  and  gathering  in  a  lamb 
or  two  from  the  outfields,  in  token  of  the  truth 
that  there  were  other  sheep  which  were  out  of 
the  Jewish  fold,  whom  also  he  was  in  due  time 
to  bring  in,  so  that  there  should  be  one  fold  and 
one  shepherd. 

Our  idea,  that  it  was  this  circumstance, — her 
Samaritan  nationahty, — which  lent  such  inter- 


The  Woman  of  Samaeia.  317 

est,  in  our  Saviour's  own  regard,  to  his  inter- 
view with  this  woman  by  the  well-side,  is  con- 
firmed by  casting  a  glance  at  its  result.  Jesus 
at  their  entreaty  turned  aside,  and  abode  two 
days  with  the  Sycharites.  You  read  of  no  sign 
or  wonder  wrought,  no  miracle  performed,  save 
that  miracle  of  knowledge  which  won  the  wo- 
man's faith.  Though  no  part  of  it  is  recorded, 
his  teaching  for  those  few  days  in  Sychar  was, 
in  its  general  character,  hke  to  his  teaching  by 
the  well-mouth,  and  on  the  ground  alone  of  the 
truthfulness,  the  simplicity,  the  purity,  the . 
spirituality,  and  the  sublimity  of  that  teaching, 
many  believed  on  him,  declaring  they  knew 
that  this  was  indeed  the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of 
the  world. 

The  phrase  is  so  familiar  to  the  Christian  ear, 
that  we  may  fail  to  mark  its  singularity  as  com- 
ing from  the  lips  of  these  rude  Samaritans. 
No  Saviour  this  for  Jew  alone,  or  Samaritan 
alone  ;  for  any  one  age  or  country.  Not  his 
the  work  to  deliver  from  mere  outward  thrall- 
dom,  to  establish  either  in  Jerusalem  or  else- 
where any  temporal  kingdom  :  his  the  wider 
and  more  glorious  office  to  emancipate  the  hu- 
man spirit,  and  be  its  guide  to  the  Father  of  the 
spirits  of  all  flesh.     Compare  the  notions  which 


318  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

these  simple  villagers  had  of  the  Messiah,  with 
those  prevalent  among  the  Jews ;  compare 
with  them  any  of  the  most  intelligent  of  our 
Lord's  apostles  up  to  the  day  of  Pentecost,  and 
your  very  wonder  might  create  doubt,  did  you 
not  remember  that  it  was  not  from  the  books 
of  Daniel  and  Zechariah  and  Ezekiel,  the  books 
from  which  the  Jews  by  false  interpretations 
derived  their  ideas  of  the  Messiah's  character 
and  reign,  that  the  Samaritans  derived  theirs, 
but  from  the  Pentateuch  alone,  the  five  books 
.  of  Moses  ;  and  when  you  turn  to  the  latter, 
and  look  at  the  prophecies  regarding  Christ 
which  they  contain,  you  will  find  that  the  two 
things  about  him  to  which  they  point, — that  he 
should  be  a  prophet  sent  from  God,  and  that 
his  office  should  have  respect  to  all  mankind, 
that  to  him  should  the  gathering  of  the  people 
be,  and  that  in  him  should  all  famihes  of  the 
earth  be  blessed, — were  the  very  two  things 
that  the  faith  of  these  Samaritans  embraced 
when  they  said,  "  We  know  that  this  is  indeed 
the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  world J^ 

The  conversation  by  the  well,  the  two  fruit- 
ful days  at  Sychar,  what  is  the  general  lesson 
that  they  convey?  That  wherever  Christ  finds 
an  opening  listening  ear,  he   has  glad  tidings 


The  Woman  of  Samaeia.  319 

that  he  is  ready  to  pour  into  it ;  that  wherever 
he  finds  a  thirsting  soul,  he  has  hving  waters 
with  which  he  dehghts  to  quench  its  thirst  ; 
that  to  all  who  are  truly  seeking  him,  he  drops 
disguise,  and  says,  "Behold,  even  I  that  speak 
unto  you,  am  he  ;"  tliat  wherever  he  finds 
minds  and  hearts  longing  after  a  revelation  of 
the  Father,  and  the  true  mode  of  worshipping 
him,  to  such  is  the  revelation  given.  Had  you 
but  stood  by  Jacob's  well,  and  seen  the  look 
of  Jesus,  and  listened  to  the  tones  of  his  voice  ; 
or  had  you  been  in  Sychar  during  those  two 
bright  and  happy  days,  hearing  the  instructions 
so  freely  given,  so  gratefully  received^  you 
would  have  had  the  evidence  of  sense  to  tell 
you  with  what  abounding  joy  to  all  who  are 
waiting  and  who  are  willing,  Jesus  breaks  the 
bread  and  pours  out  the  water  of  everlasting 
life.  Multiplied  a  thousandfold  is  the  evidence 
to  the  same  effect  now  offered  to  the  eye  and 
ear  of  faith.  Still  from  the  lips  of  the  Saviour 
of  the  world,  over  all  the  world  the  words  are 
sounding  forth  :  "If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  to  me  and  drink."  Still  the  manner  of 
his  dispensation  of  the  great  gift  stands  em- 
bodied in  the  words:  "Thou  wouldst  have 
asked,  and  I  w^ould  have  given  thee  the  living 


320  The  Woman  of  Samaeia. 

water."  And  still  these  other  voices  are  heard 
catching  up  and  re-echoing  our  Lord's  own 
gracious  invitation :  "  And  the  Spirit  and  the 
bride  say,  (Jome.  And  let  him  that  heareth 
say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come. 
And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water 
of  Ufe  freely." 


XV. 

THE  JEWISH  NOBLEMAN  AND  THE  ROMAN  CENTU- 
RION.* 

SEATED  by  the  side  of  Jacob's  well,  and 
seeing  the  Samaritan  woman  draw  water 
out  of  it,  Jesus  seizes  on  the  occasion  to  dis- 
course to  her  of  the  water  of  life.  So  soon  as 
she  hears  from  his  own  lips  that  he  is  the  Mes- 
siah, this  woman  leaves  her  water-pot  behind 
her,  and  hurries  into  the  neighboring  city  to 
announce  to  others  the  great  discovery  which 
has  been  made  to  her.  She  has  scarcely  left 
the  Saviour's  side,  ere  his  disciples  present 
themselves  with  the  bread  which  they  had 
bought  in  Sychar,  offering  it,  and  saying  to 
him,  "Master,  eat."  But,  as  if  hunger  had 
gone  from  him,  and  he  cared  not  now  for  food, 
he  answers,  "  I  have  meat  to  eat  that  ye  know 
not  of."     Wondering  at  his  manner,  his  appear- 

*  John  iv.  46-54  ;  Luke  \u.  1-10. 


322  The  Koman  Centueion. 

ance,  his  speech,  so  difFerent  from  what  they 
had  expected,  the  disciples  sa}'  to  one  another 
— it  is  the  only  explanation  that  occurs  to  them. 
— "  Hath  any  man  brought  him  aught  to  eat?" 
Correcting  the  false  conception,  our  Lord 
rephes  :  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  him 
that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his  work."  He  had 
been  eating  that  meat,  he  had  been  doing  that 
will,  while  they  were  away  ;  and  so  grateful 
had  it  been  to  him  to  be  so  engaged,  so  happy 
had  he  been  in  instructing  a  solitary  woman, 
and  sending  her  away,  in  full  belief  in  his  Mes- 
siahship,  to  go  and  bring  others  to  him,  that, 
in  the  joy  of  a  spirit  whose  first  desire  had  been 
granted  to  it,  the  bodily  appetite  ceases  to 
solicit,  and  the  hunger  of  an  hour  ago  is  no 
longer  felt.  She  is  gone,  but  already  foresee- 
ing all,  he  anticipates  her  return, — hears  and 
acts  upon  the  invitation  given,  has  the  fruit  of 
these  two  productive  days  at  Sychar  before  his 
eyes,  looking  upon  the  few  sheaves  then  gath- 
ered in  as  the  first-fruits  of  a  still  wider,  richer 
harvest.  The  idea  of  that  harvest  filling  his 
mind,  he  looks  over  the  fields  around  him,  and 
blending  the  natural  and  the  spiritual  together, 
he  says  to  his  disciples :  "  Say  not  ye.  There 
are  yet  four  months,  and  then  cometh  harvest  ? 


The  Jewish  Nobleman,  323 

Beliold,  I  say  unto  you,  Lift  up  your  eyes,  and 
look  on  the  fields,  for  they  are  white  already  to 
harvest.  And  he  that  reapeth  receiveth  wages, 
and  gathereth  fruit  unto  life  eternal :  that  both 
he  that  soweth  and  he  that  reapeth  may  rejoice 
together.  And  herein  is  that  saying  true.  One 
soweth,  and  another  reapeth."  How  many 
contrasts  as  well  as  analogies  between  the  hus- 
bandry of  nature  and  the  husbandry  of  grace 
do  these  words  set  forth !  The  sower  in  the 
fields  of  nature  has  always  four  months  to  wait  ; 
such  is  the  interval  in  Palestine  between  seed- 
time and  harvest.  In  those  other  fields  in 
which  Jesus  is  the  chief  sower,  as  in  the  very 
corner  of  them  at  Sychar,  sometimes  the  seed 
has  scarcely  sunk  into  the  soil  ere  it  springs  up 
ready  for  the  reaper's  hands.  Then  not  seldom 
the  ploughman  overtakes  the  reaper,  and  the 
reapers  and  the  sowers  go  on  together.  And 
3^et  there  is  often,  too,  an  interval ;  nor  is  it 
always  even  generally  true  that  it  is  he  who 
sows  who  reaps.  Nowhere  is  the  common 
proverb,  that  one  soweth  and  another  reapeth, 
oftener  verified  than  here.  In  the  spiritual 
domain  it  is  the  lot  of  some  to  do  little  else  all 
their  lives  than  sow,  to  sow  long  and  laboriously 
without  seeing  any  fields  whitening  unto  the 


324  The  Eoman  Centurion. 

harvest ;  it  is  the  lot  of  others  to  have  httle  else 
to  do  than  gather  in  the  fruits  of  others'  labors  ; 
or,  looking  at  the  broad  history  of  the  world 
and  of  the  church,  can  we  not  mark  certain 
epochs  which  we  would  particularly  characterize 
as  times  of  sowing,  others  as  times  of  reaping, 
sometimes  separated  by  wide  intervals,  some- 
times running  rapidly  into  one  another  ?  But 
whether  they  be  the  same  or  different  agents 
that  are  employed  in  the  sowing  and  in  the 
reaping  ;  whether  longer  space  intervene,  or 
the  sowing  and  the  reaping  go  together,  one 
thing  is  true,  that  when  the  harvest  cometh, 
and  the  everlasting  life,  towards  which  all  the 
labor  has  been  tending,  is  reached,  then  shall 
there  be  a  great  and  mutual  rejoicing, — the 
gladness  of  those  to  whom  it  is  given  to  see 
that  their  labor  has  not  been  in  vain  in  the 
Lord. 

It  has  always  been  a  question  whether  there 
was  any  allusion  made  or  intended  by  Christ  to 
the  actual  condition  of  the  fields  around  him  as 
he  spake.  I  cannot  but  think,  though  it  be  in 
opposition  to  the  judgment  of  some  of  our  first 
scholars,  that  there  was.  Jesus  was  speaking 
at  the  time  when  there  were  as  yet  four  months 
unto  the  harvest.     If  it  were  so,  then  we  have 


The  Eoman  Centukion.  325 

good  ground  for  settling  at  what  period  of  the 
year  this  visit  of  our  Lord  to  Sychar  took  place. 
The  harvest  in  Palestine  begins  about  the  mid- 
dle of  April.  Four  months  back  from  that 
time  carries  us  to  the  middle  of  December,  the 
Jewish  seed-time.  If  so,  the  interval  between 
the  first  Passover  at  which  our  Lord  had  his 
conversation  with  Nicodemus,  which  took  pluce, 
as  we  know,  at  the  commencement  of  the  early 
harvesT,  and  the  conversation  with  the  woman 
of  Samaria,  an  interval  of  no  less  than  eight 
months,  were  spent  by  Jesus  in  Judea,  givhig 
to  the  rulers  of  the  people  a  privileged  oppor- 
tunity of  considering  Christ's  character  and 
claims.  Nothing  but  disappointment,  neglect, 
indifference,  or  alienation,  having  been  mani- 
fested, Jesus  retired  to  Gralilee,  taking  Samaria 
by  ihe  way.  The  two  days  at  Sychar  pre- 
sented a  striking  contrast  to  his  reception  in 
Judea.  How  will  they  stand  in  comparison 
with  the  reception  that  awaits  him  in  Gal- 
ilee? 

Cana  Ues  farther  north  than  Nazareth.  The 
road  to  the  one  would  lead  close  to,  if  not 
through  the  other.  On  this  occasion  Jesus 
appears  to  have  passed  by  Nazareth.  Perhaps 
it  was  to  avoid  such  a  reception  as  he  knew  to  be 


326  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

awaiting  him  there,  or  it  may  have  been  simply 
because  Mary  and  the  family  had  shifted  their 
residence,  and  were  now  hving  near  their  rela- 
tives at  Cana.  The  rumor  of  the  first  miracle 
which  he  had  wrought  there  some  months  before 
may  have  spread  widely  in  the  neighborhood. 
It  was  done,  however,  so  quietly,  and  in  such  a 
hidden  manner,  that  one  can  well  conceive  of 
different  versions  of  it  going  abroad.  It  was 
different  with  those  reports  which  the  Galileans 
who  had  been  up  at  the  last  Passover  brought 
back  from  Jerusalem.  Our  Lord's  miracles 
there,  whatever  they  were,  were  done  openl}^ ; 
many  had  believed  because  of  them.  The  Gali- 
leans who  were  at  the  feast  had  seen  them  all, 
and  on  their  return  home  had  filled  the  country 
with  the  noise  of  them,  all  the  more  gratified, 
perhaps,  that  he  who  had  drawn  all  eyes  upon 
him  at  Jerusalem  was  one  of  themselves.  And 
now  it  is  told  abroad  that  he  has  come  back 
from  Judea  and  is  at  Cana. 

The  tidings  reach  the  ear  of  a  nobleman  in 
Capernaum,  a  Jew  of  high  birth  connected  with 
the  court  of  Herod  Antipas,  at  the  very  time 
that  a  grievous  malady  is  on  his  son,  and  has 
brought  him  to  the  very  brink  of  death.  lie 
had  not  heard,  perhaps,  that  Jesus  hyd  restored 


The  Eoman  Centueion.  327 

the  dying  to  health  ;  so  far  as  we  know,  the 
heaUng  of  his  son  may  have  been  the  first  mir- 
acle of  that  kind  which  Jesu^  vvrought ;  but  he 
has  heard  of  his  turning  the  water  into  wine,  he 
has  heard  of  the  wonders  wrought  at  Jerusalem. 
He  by  whom  such  miracles  had  been  done 
should  be  able  to  rebuke  disease.  It  is  at  least 
worth  tr3dug  whether  he  will  or  can.  The  dis- 
tance to  Cana  is  but  a  short  one,  some  twenty 
miles  or  so.  He  will  send  no  servant,  he  will 
go  himself,  and  make  the  trial.  He  went,  saw 
Jesus,  told  him  his  errand,  and  besought  him 
that  he  would  come  down  and  heal  his  son.  Why 
was  it  that  before  Jesus  made  any  reply,  or  gave 
any  indication  of  his  purpose,  he  said,  as  the 
fruit  of  some  deep  inward  thought  which  the 
application  had  suggested,  "Except  ye  see  signs 
and  wonders  ye  will  not  believe  ?"  It  was  be- 
cause he  saw  all  that  was  in  that  man,  all  the 
motives  by  which  he  had  been  prompted  to  this 
visit  ;  the  strong  affection  for  his  son,  which 
Josus  wiU  not  rebuke  ;  his  willingness  to  be  at 
any  pains  on  his  behalf,  to  seek  help  from  any 
quarter  ;  his  partial  faith  in  Christ's  power  to 
help — for  without  some  faith  of  this  description, 
he  would  not  have  come  at  all  ;  yet  the  absence 
of  aU  deeper  faith  springing  from  a  sense  of 


323  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

spiritual  disease,  which  should  have  brought  the 
man  to  Jesus  for  himself  as  well  as  for  his  son, 
and  which  should  have  taught  him  to  look  to 
Jesus  as  the  healer  of  the  soul.  It  was  because  he 
saw  in  this  nobleman  a  specimen  of  his  country- 
men at  large,  and  in  his  application  a  type  and 
prelude  of  the  multitude  of  like  applications 
afterwards  to  be  made  to  him. 

It  may  have  served  to  suggest  this  the 
more  readily  to  Christ's  thoughts,  and  give  the 
greater  intensity  to  the  emotion  excited  within 
his  breast,  that  he  had  just  come  from  Sychar, 
where  so  many  had  believed  in  him  without 
any  sign  or  wonder  done,  believed  in  him  as 
a  teacher  sent  from  Grod,  believed  in  him  as  the 
Messiah  promised  to  their  fathers.  What  a 
contrast  between  those  simple-minded,  simple- 
hearted,  Samaritans,  whose  love  and  wonder, 
faith  and  penitence,  joy  and  gratitude  had  been 
so  quickly,  so  purely,  so  exclusively  awakened, 
and  this  nobleman  of  Capernaum  and  his  Gali- 
lean fellow-countrymen  !  We  know  that  Jesus 
never  returned  to  Sychar,  though  he  must 
more  than  once  have  passed  near  to  it  on  his 
way  to  and  from  Jerusalem.  We  know  that 
he  gave  positive  instructions  to  the  seventy  to 
go  into  no  city  of  the  Samaritans.     It  was  in 


The  Eoman  Centurion.  329 

fulfillment  of  his  design  that  his  personal  minis- 
try should  be  confined  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel,  that  he  laid  this  restraint 
upon  himself  and  his  disciples.  But  can  we 
think  that  it  cost  him  no  self-denial,  that  it 
was  with  no  inward  pang  that  Jesus  turned 
away  from  those  who  showed  themselves  so 
willing  to  receive,  to  those  who  were  for  ever 
asking  a  sign  from  heaven,  and  who,  "  after  he 
had  done  so  many  miracles,  yet  believed  not 
in  him?"  (John  xii.  37.)  Why  was  it,  then, 
that  when  the  Pharisees  came  forth,  and  began 
to  question  him,  seeking  of  him  a  sign  from 
heaven,  '*  he  sighed  deeply  in  his  spirit,  and 
said,  Why  doth  this  generation  seek  after  a 
sign?"  (Mark  viii.  12.)  The  deep  sigh  came 
from  the  depth  of  a  spirit  moved  and  grieved 
at  this  incessant  craving  for  outward  seals  and 
vouchers,  this  unwillingness  to  believe  in  him 
simply  on  the  ground  of  his  character  and  his 
doctrine.  Though  he  did  not  meet^he  pecu- 
liar demand  of  the  Pharisees,  who,  unsatisfied 
even  with  his  other  works,  sought  from  him  a 
special  sign  from  heaven,  our  Lord,  we  know, 
was  lavish  in  the  performance  of  miracles,  sup- 
plied willingly  and  largely  that  ground  of  faith 
which  they  afforded,  appealed  often  and  openly 


330  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

to  the  proof  of  liis  divine  mission  which  they 
suppHed.  Yet  all  this  is  consistent  with  his 
deploring  the  necessity  which  required  such  a 
kind  of  evidence  to  be  supplied,  and  his  mourn- 
ing over  that  state  of  the  human  spirit  out  of 
which  the  necessity  arose.  "  The  works  that 
I  do,  bear  witness  of  me,  that  the  Father  hath 
sent  me."  "  If  I  do  not  the  works  of  my 
Father,  believe  me  not.  But  if  I  do,  though 
ye  believe  not  me,  believe  the  works."* 
Such  was  Christ's  language  openly  addressed  to 
the  rulers  of  the  people  at  Jerusalem.  Nor 
was  it  differently  that  he  spoke  to  his  disciples 
m  private :  "  Believe  me  that  I  am  in  the 
Father,  and  the  Father  in  me  :  or  else  believe 
me  for  the  very  works'  sake."f  Jesus  would 
rather  have  been  believed  in  without  the 
works,  would  rather  that  he  had  not  had  the 
works  to  do  in  order  to  win  the  faith.  It  is 
not,  then,  a  faith  in  the  reality  of  miracles,  nor 
in  him  simply  as  the  worker  of  them,  nor  in 
anything  he  was  or  said  or  did  that  rests  ex- 
clusively upon  his  having  performed  them, 
which  constitutes  that  deeper  faith  in  himself 
to  which  it  is  his  supreme  desire  to  conduct  ua. 
And  when  we  read  of  Jesus  sighing  when  signs 

♦  JohD  V.  3C ;  X.  37,  38.  t  Jolrn  xiv.  11. 


The  Eoman  Centurion.  331 

were  asked,  and  sighing  as  miracles  were 
wrought  by  him,  we  cannot  interpret  his  sigh- 
ing otlierwise  than  as  the  expression  of  tlie 
profound  grief  of  his  spirit  over  those  who  are 
so  little  alive  to  the  more  spiritual  evidence 
that  his  character  and  works  carried  along  with 
them,  as  to  need  to. have  these  outward  props 
and  buttresses  supplied.  There  are  two  differ- 
ent kinds  of  faith — that  which  you  put  in  what 
another  is,  or  in  what  another  has  said,  because 
of  your  own  personal  knowledge  of  him  and 
your  perception  of  the  intrinsic  truthfulness 
of  his  sayings,  and  that  which  you  cherish  be- 
cause of  certain  external  vouchers  for  his  truth- 
fulness that  he  presents.  Jesus  invites  us  to 
put  both  these  kinds  of  ftiith  in  him,  but  the  lat- 
ter and  the  lower  in  order  to  lead  on  to  the  for- 
mer and  the  higher,  the  real  abiding  life-giving 
faith  in  Him  as  the  Saviour  of  our  souls. 

"  Except  ye  see  signs  and  wonders,  3^e  will 
not  believe."  We  are  scarcely  surprised  that 
the  nobleman  of  Capernaum,  when  his  eager 
entreaty  was  met  in  this  way,  by  the  utterance 
of  so  broad  an  aphorism,  should  have  felt  some- 
what disappointed  and  chagrined.  There  was 
some  hope  for  him,  indeed,  had  he  reflected  on 
it,  in  the  words  that  Christ  had  used  ;  for  if 


332  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

Jesus  had  not  meant  to  do  this  sign  and  won- 
der, he  would  not  have  spoken  as  he  did.  But 
the  father  is  in  no  mood  to  take  up  and  weigh 
the  worth  and  meaning  of  Christ's  words. 
What  he  wants  is  that  Christ  should  go  down 
with  him  immediately  to  Capernaum  ;  he  has 
some  hope,  that  if  there,  he  may  be  able  to 
cure  his  son.  He  has  no  idea  of  a  healing 
wrought  at  a  distance,  effected  at  Cana  by  a 
word  of  the  Lord's  power,  an  act  of  the  Lord's 
will.  *'  Sir,"  he  says,  "  come  down  ere  my 
child  die  : "  a  tinge  of  impatience,  perhaps  of 
pride,  yet  full  of  the  good  compensatory  ele- 
ment, strong  parental  love.  "  Jesus  saith  unto 
him.  Go  thy  way ;  thy  son  liveth."  It  is  the 
first  time,  it  is  one  of  the  few  instances  in  which 
Jesus  stood  face  to  face  with  earthly  rank  and 
power.  Perhaps  this  nobleman  presumed  on 
his  position,  when  he  said,  with  something  of 
an  imperative  tone,  "  Sir,  come  down  ere  my 
child  die."  If  so,  he  must  have  been  not  a  lit- 
tle astonished  to  find  the  tone  of  command 
rolled  back  upon  him  thus  :  "  Go  thy  way,  thy 
son  liveth."  How  high  above  the  nobility  of 
earth  rises  the  royalty  of  heaven  !  This  is  the 
style  and  manner  of  Him  who  saith,  and  it  is 
done  ;  who  commandeth,  and  creation  through 


The  Roman  Centueion.  333 

out  all  its  borders  obeys.  None  ever  did  such 
works  on  earth  as  Jesus  did  ;  none  ever  did 
them  in  such  a  simple,  easy,  unafiected  manner ; 
the  manner  becoming  one  who  was  exerting 
not  a  delegated  but  a  native  power. 

The  manner  and  the  substance  of  the  decla- 
ration told  alike  at  once  upon  the  nobleman. 
It  satisfied  him  that  the  end  of  his  visit  was 
gained.  He  believed  in  the  word  of  Jesus, 
that  the  death  he  dreaded  was  not  to  come  up- 
on his  son,  that  the  child  he  loved  so  tenderly 
was  to  be  spared  to  hun.  How  exactly  this 
had  been  brought  about  he  did  not  as  yet  know. 
Whether  the  cure  had  been  instantaneous  and 
comiolete,  or  whether  the  crisis  of  it  had 
passed,  and  the  recovery  had  begun  ;  whether 
it  had  been  by  his  possession  of  a  superhuman 
knowledge,  or  by  his  exercise  of  a  superhuman 
power,  that  Jesus  had  been  able  to  announce 
to  him  the  fact,  "Thy  son  liveth," — he  neither 
stayed,  nor  did  he  venture  to  ask  any  explana- 
tion. It  was  enough  for  him  to  be  assured  of 
the  fact,  and  there  was  something  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  that  Go  thy  way  had  been  spoken, 
which  forbade  delay.  He  meets  his  servants 
by  the  way,  bearers  of  glad  tidings.  With 
them  he  can  use   all   freedom.     He   asks   all 


334  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

about  the  cure,  and  learns  that  it  had  not  been 
slowly  but  instantaneously  that  the  fever  had 
gone,  and  at  the  time  at  which  it  had  done  so 
was  the  very  time  at  which  these  words  of 
Jesus,  "  Thy  son  liveth,"  had  been  spoken  at 
Cana.  He  had  gone  out  to  that  village  but 
half  a  believer  in  Christ's  power  in  any  way  to 
help,  limiting  that  power  so  much  in  his  con- 
ception that  it  had  never  once  occurred  to  him 
that  Jesus  could  do  anything  for  him  unless  he 
saw  the  child.  But  now  he  feels  that  he  has 
been  standing  in  the  presence  of  One,  the  ex- 
tent of  whose  power  he  had  as  much  underrated 
as  the  depth  and  the  tenderness  of  his  love. 
Awe,  conviction,  gratitude,  fill  his  soul.  A 
double  sign  and  w^onder  has  been  done  in 
Israel.  A  child  has  been  cured  of  a  fever  at 
Capernaum  by  one  standing  miles  away  at 
Cana,  and  a  father  has  been  cured  of  his  un- 
belief,— the  same  kind  of  power  that  banished 
the  disease  from  the  body  of  the  one,  banishing 
distrust  from  the  heart  of  the  other. 

How  far  above  all  that  he  had  ever  asked ! 
His  child  was  dying  when  the  Mher  left  Ca- 
pernaum, was  still  nearer  death  when  he  ar- 
rived at  Cana  ;  had  Jesus  done  what  the  father 
wanted,  and  gone  down  with  him  to  Caper- 


The  Eoman  Centueion.  335 

iiaum,  his  son  might  have  been  dead  ere  they 
got  there.  The  word  of  power  is  spoken,  and 
just  as  the  disease  is  clasping  its  victim  in  a  last 
embrace,  it  has  to  relax  its  grasp,  take  wings 
and  fly  away.  The  father  has  gone  unselfishly, 
aftectionately,  on  an  errand  of  love,  seeking 
simply  his  child's  life,  not  asking  or  caring  to 
get  anything  himself  from  Christ.  But  now 
in  this  Jesus  he  recognizes  a  higher  and  greater 
than  a  mere  healer  of  the  body  :  spiritual  life 
is  breathed  hito  his  own  soul.  Nor  is  this  all ; 
he  returns  to  Capernaum  to  tell  all  the  wonders 
of  the  cure  ;  tells  them  to  the  healed  child,  who 
also  believes, — and  strange  would  be  the  meet- 
ing afterwards  between  that  child  and  Jesus, — 
he  tells  them  to  the  other  members  of  his  fam- 
ily, and  each  in  turn  believes.  He  himself  be- 
lieved, and  with  him  all  his  house, — the  first 
whole  household  brought  into  the  Christian 
fold. 

Let  us  compare  for  a  moment  this  case  with 
that  of  the  Centurion.  Both  plead  for  others ; 
the  one  for  his  child,  the  other  for  his  servant, 
and  the  pleadhig  of  both  is  signally  successful  ; 
the  compliance  prompt  and  generous.  Such 
honor  does  Jesus  put  on  all  kindly  intercession 
with  him  on  behalf  of  those  to  whom  we  are 


336  The  Jeivtsh  Noblemai^  and 

bound  by  ties  of  relationship  and  affection.  In 
both  the  cases,  too,  Christ  adopts  the  unusual 
method  of  curing  at  a  distance,  curing  by  a 
word.  But  the  treatment  of  the  two  appli- 
cants is  different ;  suited  to  the  state,  the  char- 
acter, the  necessities  of  each.  The  one's  faith 
is  limited  and  weak,  and  needs  to  be  expanded 
and  strengthened  ;  the  other's  is  strong,  and 
waits  only  to  be  exhibited  in  combination  with 
that  humility  which  covers  it  as  with  a  crown 
of  glory.  The  one  man,  little  knowing  what 
Christ  can  do  for  him,  and  impatient  at  wliat 
looks  hke  a  repulse,  says  in  his  haste,  Sir,  come 
down  ere  my  child  die.  The  other,  having  a 
boundless  faith  in  Jesus,  ventures  not  at  first 
to  prescribe  any  special  mode  of  cure,  but 
contents  himself  with  sending  some  elders  of 
the  Jews  to  ask  that  Christ's  healing  power 
should  be  exercised  on  behalf  of  his  servant. 
Jesus  goes  not  with  him  who  asks  him  to  do  so, 
havmg  a  far  greater  thing  to  do  for  him  than 
to  comply  with  his  request.  But  he  no  sooner 
gets  the  message  delivered  by  deputy  from  the 
other,  than  he  says,  I  will  come  and  heal  him, 
and  sets  off  instantly  on  the  errand.  But  he 
knew  that  he  should  be  arrested  by  the  way. 
He  knew  that  the  Roman  Centurion  had  such 


The  Eoman  Centukion.  337 

a  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness  that  he  shrank 
from  receiving  him  into  his  house ;  he  knew 
that  he  had  such  confidence  in  his  power,  that 
.  all  he  wanted  was  that  Jesus  should  will  it  and 
his  servant  should  be  cured.  He  knew  that 
there  was  a  humility  and  a  faith  in  the  breast 
of  this  Gentile  officer — the  first  Gentile  that 
ever  applied  to  him — such  as  was  not  to  be 
found  in  any  Israelitish  bosom.  It  was  to 
bring  these  before  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-coun- 
trymen, and  to  hold  them  up  for  admiration 
and  rebuke,  that  he  did  not  at  the  first  act  as 
he  had  done  at  Cana,  but  made  that  movement 
towards  the  Centurion's  dwelhng. 

Wonderful,  indeed,  the  faith  embodied  in  the 
message  which  the  Centurion  sent :  I,  a  Roman 
officer,  have  a  limited  authority,  but  within  its 
limits  this  authority  is  supreme.  I  can  say  unto 
one  of  my  soldiers.  Go,  and  he  goeth ;  to  another, 
Come,  and  he  cometh ;  to  my  servant.  Do  this, 
and  he  doeth  it.  But  thou,  Jesus,  art  supreme 
over  all.  As  my  soldiers  are  under  me,  so  under 
thee  are  all  the  powers  and  processes  of  nature. 
Thou  canst  say — to  this  disease.  Come,  and  it 
cometh ;  to  that  other  disease,  Go,  and  it  goeth ; 
to  thy  servants  Life  and  Death,  Do  this,  and  they 
do  it.     Say  thou  then  but  the  word,  and  my 


338  The  Jewish  Nobleman  and 

servant  shall  be  healed.  And  Jesus  marvelled 
when  he  heard  the  message,  and  he  turned  about 
and  said  to  the  people  that  followed  him, — it 
was  very  much  for  their  sakes  that  he  had  ar- 
ranged it  so,  that  so  many  peculiarities  should 
attend  this  miracle,  and  such  a  pre-eminence  be 
given  to  this  first  exhibition  of  GentUe  faith  in 
him, — I  say  unto  you,  I  have  not  found  so  great 
faith,  no,  not  in  Israel.  It  was  the  highest  ex- 
ercise of  human  ftiith  in  him  that  Jesus  had 
yet  met  with,  and  he  wondered  and  rejoiced 
that  it  should  be  found  beyond  the  bounds  of 
Israel.  Midway  between  the  Gentile  and  the 
Jew  stood  the  woman  of  Samaria  ;  outside  the 
bounds  of  Judaism  stood  this  Roman  Centurion. 
Was  it  to  prefigure  the  great  future  of  the  gath- 
ering in  of  all  people,  and  nations,  and  tongues, 
and  tribes,  that  so  early  in  his  ministry  such  man- 
ifestation of  a  faith  in  the  Saviour  was  made  ? 

But  while  wondering  with  Christ  at  the  beau- 
tiful exhibition  of  humility  and  faith  in  a  quar- 
ter so  unlooked-for,  let  us  take  home  the  warn- 
ing with  which  Jesus  followed  up  the  expression 
of  his  approval  and  admiration:  "And  I  say 
unto  you,  that  many  shall  come  from  the  east 
and  west,  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  j 


The  Eoman  Centurion.  339 

but  the  children  of  the  kmgdom  shall  be  cast 
mto  outer  darkness,  there  shall  be  waihng  and 
gnashing  of  teeth."  Surely  from  the  lips  of  the 
living  and  compassionate  Redeemer  words  of 
such  terrible  import  never  would  have  passed, 
had  the  warning  they  convey  not  been  needed. 
Let  it  then  be  the  first  and  most  earnest  effort  of 
each  of  us  to  enter  into  this  kingdom,  of  which 
nominally  and  by  profession  we  are  the  children, 
m  all  humility,  and  with  entire  trust  in  Christ 
our  Saviour,  lest  the  opportunity  for  entering 
in  go  past,  and  the  door  be  shut — shut  by  Him 
who  shutteth,  and  no  man  openeth. 


XVI. 

THE   POOL   OF   BETHESDA.* 

COULD  we  ascertain  what  the  feast  was  to 
which  Jesus  went  up,  and  at  which  he 
healed  the  man  beside  the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  it 
would  go  far  to  settle  the  question  as  to  the 
length  of  our  Lord's  public  ministry  ;  but  after 
all  the  labor  that  has  been  bestowed  on  the 
investigation,  it  remains  still  uncertain  whether 
it  was  the  Passover,  or  one  of  the  other  annual 
festivals.  If  it  was  the  Passover — as,  upon  the 
whole,  we  incline  to  think  it  was,  as  John  men- 
tions three  other  Passovers,  one  occurring  be- 
fore, and  two  after  this  one — Christ's  ministry 
would  come  to  be  regarded  as  covering  a  space 
of  about  three  years  and  a  half ;  if  it  were  one 
or  other  of  the  lesser  festivals,  a  year  or  more, 
according  to  the  festival  which  is  fixed  upon, 

*  John  V. 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  341 

must   be   deducted    from    that    period.     This 
much,  at  least,  appears  certain,  that  it  was  our 
Lord's  second    appearance  in  Jerusalem  after 
his  baptism,  and  that  it  occurred  at  or  near  the 
close  of  a  year,  the  most  of  which  had  been 
spent  in  Judea.     On  the  occasion  of  this  second 
visit,    Jesus   went   one   Sabbath-day   to   walk 
through  the  cloisters  or  colonnades  that  were 
built  round  a  large  swimming  bath,  called  the 
Pool  of  Bethesda.     Tradition  has  for  many  ages 
pointed  to  a  large  excavation  360  feet  long,  130 
feet  broad,  and  75  feet  deep,  lying  outside  the 
north  wall  of  the  Harem  enclosure,  and  near  to 
St.  Stephen's  Gate,  as  having  been  this  pool. 
The    pecuhar  character  of  its  masonry  estab- 
hshes  the  fact  that  it  must  have  been  intended 
originally  as  a  reservoir  for  water.     At  one  of 
its  corners  there  are  two  arched  openhigs  or 
vaults,    one   twelve,    the    other   nineteen   feet 
wide,  extending  backward  to  an  unknown  dis- 
tance, forming  part,  it  may  have  been,  of  the 
porches  of  which  the  Evangelist  speaks.     These 
porches,  on   the    day   on  which   Jesus  visited 
them,  were  crowded.     They  formed  one  of  the 
city  resorts  ;  and    besides   numbers   of  others 
that  frequented  them  for  the  ordinary  use  of 
the  waters,  there  lay  around  a  great  multitude 


842  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

of  the  blind,  the  halt,  the  withered,  waiting  for 
the  moving  of  the  water. 

If  we  accept  the  account  given  in  the  fourth 
verse  of  the  fifth  chapter,  the  moving  of  the 
water,  and  the  healing  virtue  temporarily  be- 
stowed upon  it  during  the  period  of  its  com- 
motion, were  due  to  angelic  agency.  The 
verse,  however,  is  wanting  in  many  of  the 
most  ancient  manuscripts,  and  has  come  now  to 
be  very  generally  regarded  as  an  interpolation 
very  naturally  inserted  by  the  early  transcribers 
of  the  Gospel,  as  embodying  the  expression  of 
what  was  then  the  popular  belief.  We  are  dis- 
posed the  rather  to  go  in  with  this  view,  when 
we  consider  how  unlike  to  angelic  hifluence  is 
the  kind  of  agency  here  attributed  to  it  as  else- 
where described  in  Holy  Writ,  and  how  singular 
it  would  have  been  had  the  heahng  power 
been  so  bestowed  that  it  should  be  restricted  to 
the  single  person  who  first  stepped  in.  Of  it- 
self this  would  not  be  sufficient  ground  on 
which  to  reject  the  idea  of  a  supernatural 
agency  having  been  employed,  but  if  the  verse 
alluded  to  did  not  form  part  of  the  original 
writing  of  the  Evangelist,  then  we  are  left  at 
Uberty  to  believe  that  this  was  a  pool  supplied 
by  an  intermittent  spring,   which   at   certain 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  343 

seasons,  owing  to  the  sudden  formation  of  par- 
ticular gases,  babbled  up,  throwing  the  wliole 
water  of  the  r'^servoir  into  commotion,  impreg- 
nated for  the  time  with  quahties  which  had  a 
heaUng  power  over  some  forms  of  disease — a 
power  of  course  greatly  magnified  in  the  pop- 
ular idea.  But  whether  the  verse,  and  the  ex- 
planation which  it  contains  of  the  moving  of 
the  water,  be  accepted  or  rejected,  the  narra- 
tive of  what  Jesus  said  and  did  remains  un- 
touched. 

Wandering  through  these  crowded  porches, 
and  looking  at  the  strange  array  of  the  diseased 
waiting  therQ  for  the  auspicious  moment,  the 
eye  of  Jesus  rests  on  one  who  wears  a  dejected 
and  despairing  look,  as  if  he  had  given  up  all 
hope.  Thirty-eight  years  before,  the  powers 
of  life  and  motion  had  been  so  enfeebled  that  it 
was  wdth  the  greatest  difficulty,  and  at  the  slow- 
est pace,  he  could  creep  along  the  ground. 
His  friends  had  got  tired  perhaps  of  helping 
him  otherwise,  and  as  their  last  resource,  had 
carried  him  to  the  porches  of  the  pool,  and  left 
him  there  to  do  the  best  for  himself  he  could. 
And  he  had  done  that  best  often  and  often,  yet 
had  failed.  Every  time  the  troubling  of  the 
water  came,  he  had  made  the  effort ;  but  ever^f 


344  The  Pool  of  Bethesda, 

time  he  had  seen  some  one  of  more  vigor  and 
alertness,  or  better  helped,  get  in  before  him 
and  snatch  the  benefit  out  of  his  hands.  Je- 
sus knew  all  this  :  knew  how  long  it  had  been 
since  the  paralytic  stroke  first  fell  on  him  ; 
how  long  it  was  since  he  had  been  brought  to 
try  the  efi&cacy  of  these  waters  ;  how  the  ex- 
pectation of  cure,  at  first  full  and  bright,  had 
been  gradually  fading  from  his  heart.  To  re- 
kindle the  dying  hope,  to  fix  the  man's  attention 
on  himself,  Jesus  bends  over  the  bed  on  which 
he  lies,  looks  down  at  him,  and  says.  Wilt  thou 
be  made  whole  ?  Were  the  words  spoken  in 
mockery  ?  That  could  not  be  ;  a  glance  at  the 
speaker  was  sufficient  to  disprove  it.  But  the 
question  surely  would  not  have  been  asked  had 
the  speaker  known  how  helpless  was  he  to 
whom  it  was  addressed.  He  said,  "  I  have  no 
man,  when  the  water  is  troubled,  to  put  me 
into  the  pool,  but  while  I  am  coming  another 
steppeth  down  before  me."  As  he  gives  this 
explanation,  he  looks  up  more  earnestly  into 
the  stranger's  face — a  face  he  had  never  seen 
before — and  gathers  a  new  life  and  hope  from 
the  expression  of  sympathy,  the  look  of  power 
that  countenance  conveys. 

"Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Rise,  take  up  thy  bed, 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  345 

and  walk."  The  command  was  instantly  obeyed. 
The  cure  was  instantly  complete.  The  short 
time,  however,  that  it  had  taken  for  him  to 
stoop  and  lift  the  mattress  on  which  he  lay,  had 
been  sufficient  for  Jesus  to  pass  on,  and  be  lost 
among  the  crowd.  The  stopping,  the  question, 
the  command,  the  cure,  all  had  been  so  sudden, 
the  man  has  been  so  taken  by  surprise,  that  he 
doubts  whether  he  would  be  able  to  recognize 
that  stranger  if  he  saw  him  again.  Lifting  his 
bed,  and  rejoicing  in  the  new  sensation  of  re- 
covered strength,  he  walks  through  the  city 
streets  in  search  of  his  old  home  and  friends. 
The  Jews — an  expression  by  which,  in  his  Gos- 
pel, John  always  means,  not  the  general  com- 
munity, but  some  of  the  ecclesiastical  heads  and 
rulers  of  the  people — the  Jews  see  him  as  he 
walks,  and  say  to  him :  "It  is  the  Sabbath-day ; 
it  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  carry  thy  bed."  No 
answer  could  be  more  natural,  as  no  excuse 
could  be  more  valid,  than  that  which  the  man 
gave  when  he  said :  "He  that  made  me  whole,  the 
same  said  unto  me.  Take  up  thy  bed  and  walk." 
His  challengers  do  not  ask  him  anything  about 
the  healing — as  soon  as  they  hear  of  it,  they 
suspect  who  the  healer  was — but  fixing  upon 
the  act  in  which  the  breach  of  the  Sabbath  lay. 


34:6  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

and  as  if  admitting  the  validity  of  the  man's 
defence,  in  throwing  the  responsibiUtj  of  that 
act  upon  him  who  had  ordered  him  to  do  it, 
"They  asked  him.  What  man  is  that  which  said 
unto  thee.  Take  up  thy  bed  and  walk?"  He 
could  not  tell,  and  so  the  conversation  by  the 
wayside  dropped. 

Soon  after,  the  healed  man  is  in  the  Temple, 
thankijig  God,  let  us  believe,  for  the  great  mercy 
bestowed  upon  him,  Jesus,  too,  is  there  ;  but 
they  might  have  passed  without  the  healed  re- 
cognizing the  healer.  It  was  not  the  purpose, 
however,  of  our  Lord  that  it  should  be  so.  Find- 
ing the  man  among  the  worshippers,  he  says  to 
him,  "Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing  come  unto 
thee."  Nothing  more  seems  to  have  been  said  ; 
nothing  more  to  have  passed  between  the 
two ;  but  that  short  sentence,  what  a  light  it 
threw  upon  the  distant  past ! — reminding  the 
man  that  it  had  been  to  the  sins  of  his  youth 
that  he  had  owed  the  eight-and-thirty  years  of 
infirmity  that  had  followed  ;  and  what  a  solemn 
warning  did  they  carry  as  to  the  future ! — re- 
minding him  that  if,  on  being  restored  to 
strength,  he  should  return  to  sin,  a  still  worse 
thing  than  so  many  years  of  bodily  infirmity 
might  be  in  store  for  him.     Jesus  gives  this 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  347 

warning,  and  passes  on.  Recognizing  him  at 
once  as  he  who  had  cured  him  beside  the  pool, 
the  man  inquires  about  him  of  the  bystanders, 
and  learns  now  who  he  is.  And  he  goes  and 
tells  the  Jews  ;  not,  let  us  hope,  from  any  ma- 
licious motive,  or  any  desire  to  put  an  instru- 
ment into  the  hands  of  Christ's  enemies.  Con- 
sidering where  and  how  he  had  so  long  been 
lying,  he  may  have  known  so  little  of  all  that 
had  recently  happened,  as  to  imagine  that  he 
was  at  once  pleasing  the  rulers,  and  doing  a 
service  to  Jesus,  by  informing  them  about  his 
cure.  But  it  was  no  new  intelligence  that  he 
conveyed.  The  Jews,  we  presume,  knew  well 
enough  who  had  effected  this  cure.  But  it  was 
the  first  instance  in  which  they  had  heard  of 
Jesus  healing  on  the  Sabbath-day — of  itself 
in  their  eyes  a  violation  of  its  sanctity  ;  and  as 
it  would  appear  that,  not  content  with  this 
offence,  he  had  added  another  in  ordering  the 
man  to  carry  on  that  day  a  burden  through 
the  streets — a  thing  strictly  and  literally  pro- 
hibited by  the  law — it  may  have  gratified  the 
Jews  to  be  able  to  convict  Jesus  of  a  double 
breach  of  the  Sabbath  law  by  direct  and  indu- 
bitable evidence  from  the  man's  own  lips.  You 
can  imagine  thp  secret  though  malignant  satis- 


348  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

faction  with  which  they  got  and  grasped  this 
weapon,  one  at  once  of  defence  and  of  assault ; 
how  they  would  use  it  in  vindicating  their  re- 
jection of  Christ  as  a  teacher  sent  from  God, 
for  could  God  send  a  man  who  would  be  guilty 
of  such  flagrant  breaches  of  his  law?  how 
they  would  use  it  in  carrying  out  those  pur- 
poses of  persecution  already  brooding  in  their 
breasts. 

Their  hostility  to  Jesus,  which  had  been  deep- 
ening ever  since  his  daring  act  of  cleansing  the 
Temple,  now  reached  its  height.  From  this 
time  forth — and  it  deserves  to  be  especially 
noted  as  having  occurred  at  so  early  a  stage, 
inasmuch  as  it  forms  the  key  to  much  of  our 
Lord's  subsequent  conduct — they  sought  to 
slay  him,  because  he  had  done  those  things  on 
the  Sabbath-day.  But  though  the  purpose  to 
slay  him  was  formed,  it  was  not  expressed,  nor 
attempted  to  be  carried  out.  Things  were  not 
yet  ripe  for  its  execution.  Jesus  might  be  con- 
victed as  a  Sabbath-breaker,  and  all  the  oppro- 
brium of  such  a  conviction  be  heaped  upon  his 
head  ;  but  as  things  then  stood,  it  would  not 
be  possible  to  have  the  penalty  of  death  in- 
flicted on  him  upon  that  ground.  They  must 
wait  and  watch  for  an  opportunity  of  accusing 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  349 

him  of  some  crime  which  will  carry  that  pen- 
alty even  in  the  eyes  of  a  Roman  judge. 

Though  not  serving  them  much  in  this  re- 
«pect,  they  have  not  to  wait  long  till,  in  their 
very  presence — so  that  they  have  no  need  to 
ask  for   other   proof — Jesus    commits  a    still 
higher  offence  than  that  of  violating  the  Sab- 
bath.    Aware  of  the  charges  that   they  were 
bringing  against  him  as  to  his  conduct  at  the 
Pool  of  Bethesda,  he  seizes  upon  some  public 
opportunity  when  he  could  openly  address  the 
rulers  ;  and  in  answer  to  the  special  accusation 
of  having  broken  the  Sabbath,  he  says  to  them, 
'  "  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." 
The  rest  into  which  my  Father  entered  after 
his   work  of  creation,  of   which  your  earthly 
Sabbatic  rest  is  but  a  type,  was  not  one  of  ab- 
solute inactivity — of  the  suspension,  cessation 
'of  his  agency  in  and  over  the  vast  creation  he 
had   formed.     He    worketh  on  still;  worketh 
on  continuously,  without  distinction    of  days, 
through  the  Sabbath-day  as  through  all  days, 
sustaining,     preserving,    renewing,     vivifying, 
healing.     Were  this  work  Divine  to  cease,  there 
would  not  be  even  that  earthly    Sabbath  for 
you  to  rest  in.     And  as  he,  my  Father,  work- 
eth, so  work  I,  his  Son,  knowing  as  little  of 


350  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

distinction  of  days  in  my  working  as  he.  By 
process  of  nature,  as  you  call  it — that  is,  by  the 
hand  of  my  Father — a  man  is  often  cured  on 
the  Sabbath-day.  And  it  is  only  what  He  thus 
does  that  I  have  done,  and  my  authority  for 
doing  so  is  this,  that  I  am  his  Son.' 

Whatever  difficulty  the  men  to  whom  this 
defence  of  his  alleged  Sabbath-breaking  was 
offered,  may  have  had  either  in  understanding 
its  nature  or  appreciating  its  force,  one  thing  is 
clear,  that  they  did  at  once  and  most  clearly 
comprehend  that  in  speaking  of  God  as  his 
Father  in  the  way  he  did,  Jesus  was  claiming 
to  stand  to  God,  not  simply  in  the  relationship 
of  a  child — such  a  relationship  as  that  in  which 
we  all,  as  the  creatures  of  his  power  and  the 
preserved  of  his  providence,  may  be  regarded 
as  standing — but  in  that  of  a  close,  personal, 
peculiar  sonship  belonging  to  him  alone,  involv- 
ing in  it,  as  all  true  filiation  does,  unity  of  na- 
ture between  the  Father  and  the  Son.  It  was 
thus  that  the  Jews  understood  Jesus  to  speak 
of  the  Father  and  of  himself,  when  he  so  asso- 
ciated himself  with  the  Father,  as  to  imply  that 
if  his  Father  was  not  a  breaker  of  the  Sabbath 
in  healing  men  upon  that  day,  neither  was  he, 
his  Son  ;  and  so  they  sought  the  more  to  kill 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  S51 

him,  because  he  had  not  only  broken  the  Sab- 
bath, but  said  also  that  God  was  his  own 
Father,  making  himself  equal  with  God. 

If  the  Jews  had  misunderstood  Jesus,  what 
was  easier  than  for  him  to  have  said  so  ;  to 
have  denied  and  repudiated  the  allegation  that 
he  had  intended  to  claim  anything  hke  equality 
with  God  ?  Instead  of  this,  what  does  Jesus 
do  ?  He  goes  on  to  reassert,  to  explain,  and  to 
expand  what  had  been  implied  in  the  com- 
pendious expression  he  had  employed.  Any- 
thing like  such  distinction  between  the  Father 
and  the  Son  as  that  the  one  would  or  could 
judge,  or  will,  or  act  independently  of  the 
other — without  or  against  the  other — he  em- 
phatically and  reiteratedly  repudiates :  "Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  the  Son  can  do  nothing 
of  Limself  ;  "  "I  can  of  my  own  self  do  noth- 
ing," The  very  nature  of  the  relationship  for- 
bade it  that  the  Son  ever  would  or  could  assert 
for  himself  any  such  independence  of  the 
Father  as  the  creature,  in  its  willfulness  and  sin- 
fulness, is  apt  to  assert  for  itself.  But  tliough 
all  such  separation  and  independence  of  council 
and  of  action  is  here  precluded,  so  complete  is 
the  concert  that  what  things  soever  the  Father 
doeth  the  same  doeth  the  Son  hkewise.     Some 


352  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

things  that  the  great  Divine  Master  Workman 
does,  a  superior  schohxr  may  copy  or  imitate. 
But  Jesus  does  not  say,  what  things  the  Father 
does,  tlie  Son  does  other  things  somewhat  hke 
them  ;  but  the  same  things,  and  whatever 
things  the  Father  doeth,  the  same  doeth  the 
Son,  and  doeth  them  hkewise,  i.  e.,  in  the  very 
same  manner,  by  the  exercise  of  the  same 
power,  for  the  furtherance  of  the  same  ends. 

In  far  greater  works  than  that  simply  of 
heahng,  will  the  unity  of  action  between  them 
be  made  to  appear.  One  of  these  greater  works 
is  that  of  quickening  the  dead,  by  the  incom- 
municable prerogative  of  the  Creator.  This 
prerogative  the  Father  and  the  Son  have  equally. 
As  he  wills,  and  by  his  will,  the  Father  quick- 
eneth  ;  so  too  does  the  Son.  The  highest  form 
of  life  is  that  which  is  breathed  into  souls  spir- 
itually^ dead.  This  life  is  of  the  Son's  impart- 
ing equally  as  of  the  Father.  It  comes  through 
the  hearing  of  Christ's  word  ;  through  a  be- 
lieving in  the  Father  as  he  who  sent  the  Son. 
Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  the  hour  is  com- 
ing, and  now  is,  when  the  dead — the  spiritually 
dead — shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God, 
and  they  that  hear  shall  live.  Another  work 
peculiar  to  Divinity  is  that  of  judging  ;  approv- 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  353 

ing,  condemning,  assigning  to  every  man  at 
last,  in  strict  accordance  with  what  he  is,  and 
has  been,  and  has  done,  his  place  and  destiny. 
Who  but  the  all-wise,  all-just,  all-gracious  God 
is  competent  for  such  a  task  ?  but  that  task,  in 
the  outward  execution  of  it,  the  Father  has 
devolved  upon  the  Son,  giving  him  authority  to 
execute  it,  because  he  is  not  simply  the  Son  of 
God,  in  which  character  he  needs  not  such  au- 
thority to  be  conveyed  to  him  ;  but  because  he 
is  also  the  Son  of  man,  and  it  is  in  that  com- 
plex or  mediatorial  office  with  which  he  is  in- 
vested, that  he  is  to  sit  upon  the  Throne  of 
Judgment  at  the  last,  when  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  earth  shall  stand  before  his  tribunal. 
Should  this  then  be  a  subject  for  marvel?  for 
the  hour  was  coming,  though  not  yet  come, 
when  all  that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear 
Christ's  voice  and  shall  come  forth  ;  they  that 
have  done  good  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  and 
they  that  have  done  evil  to  the  resurrection  of 
condemnation.  Having  thus  unfolded  the  great 
truth  of  the  unity  of  will,  purpose,  and  action, 
between  the  Father  and  the  Son,  Jesus  ceases 
to  speak  of  himself  in  the  third  person,  and 
proceeds  onward  to  the  close  of  his  address,  to 
speak  in  the  first  person,  and  that  in  the  plain- 


364  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

est  way,*  of  the  testimonies  that  had  been 
borne  to  him,  that  of  the  Father,  that  of  John, 
that  of  his  own  works,  that  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, all  of  which  these  Jews  had  willfully  re- 
jected. Now  the  accused  becomes  the  accuser. 
Now  he  who  had  been  charged  as  a  Sabbath- 
breaker,  rises  to  the  height  of  that  ver}^  eleva- 


*  •'!  can  of  mine  own  self  do  nothing  :  as  I  hear,  I  judge  :  and 
my  judgment  is  just ;  because  I  seek  not  mine  own  will,  but  the 
will  of  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me.  If  I  bear  witness  of  my- 
self, my  witness  is  not  true.  There  is  another  that  beareth  wit- 
ness of  me  ;  and  I  know  that  the  witness  which  he  witnesseth  of 
me  is  true.  Ye  sent  unto  John,  and  he  bare  witness  unto  the  truth. 
But  I  receive  not  testimony  from  man  :  but  these  things  I  say, 
that  ye  might  be  saved.  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light ; 
and  ye  were  willing  for  a  season  to  rejoice  in  his  light.  But  I  have 
greater  witness  than  that  of  John  :  for  the  works  u  Lich  the  Father 
hath  given  me  to  finish,  the  same  works  that  I  do,  bear  witness  of 
me,  that  the  Father  hath  sent  me.  And  the  Father  himself,  which 
hath  sent  me,  hath  borne  witness  of  me.  Ye  have  neither  heard 
his  voice  at  any  time,  nor  seen  his  shape.  And  ye  have  not  his 
word  abiding  in  you  :  for  whom  he  hath  sent,  him  ye  beheve  not. 
Search  the  scriptures  ;  for  in  them  ye  think  ye  have  eternal  life  : 
and  they  are  they  which  testify  of  me.  And  ye  will  not  come  to 
me,  that  ye  might  have  hfe.  I  receive  not  honor  from  men.  But 
I  know  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you.  I  am  come 
in  my  Father's  name,  and  ye  receive  me  not :  if  another  shall  come 
in  hie  own  name,  him  ye  will  receive.  How  can  ye  believe,  which 
receive  honor  one  of  another,  and  seek  not  the  honor  that  cometh 
from  God  only?  Do  not  think  that  I  will  acciise  you  to  the 
Father  ;  there  is  one  that  accuseth  you,  even  Moses,  in  whom  ye 
trust.  For  had  ye  believed  Moses,  ye  would  have  beheved  me  : 
for  he  wrote  of  me.  But  if  ye  beheve  not  his  writings,  how  shall 
ye  believe  my  words  ?" 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  355 

tioTi  which  they  had  regarded  him  as  a  profan« 
and  blasphemous  man  for  venturing  to  claim  ; 
and  he  tells  these  unbelieving  Jews,  as  one 
knowing  the  hearts  of  all  men,  and  entitled  to 
judge,  and  exercising  that  very  authority  with 
which,  as  the  Son  of  man,  he  had  been  clothed 
— he  tells  them,  that  they  had  not  the  love  of 
God  in  them,  nor  his  word  abiding  in  them  ; 
that  they  did  not  believe  Moses  when  he  wrote 
of  him  ;  that,  much  as  they  reverenced  their 
Scriptures,  they  only  believed  in  them  so  far  as 
they  tallied  with  their  own  thoughts  and  fan- 
cies. Still  further,  he  declares  that  there  was 
this  great  obstacle  in  the  way  of  their  receiving 
one  who  came  to  them  as  Jesus  did,  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  to  do  alone  the  Father's 
will,  that  they  were  all  too  busy  seeking  aftei 
the  honor  that  came  from  man,  minding  earthlj 
things,  and  seeking  not  the  honor  that  came 
from  the  one  only  living  and  true  God  ;  at- 
tributing thus  all  their  perverseness  to  mora' 
causes,  to  motives  operating  within,  over  which 
they  should  have  had  control  ;  this  being  their 
condemnation,  that  they  would  not  come  tc 
him  that  they  might  have  life.  He  would,  but 
they  would  not. 

If  Jesus  Christ  were  but  a  man,  what  are  we 


356  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

to  make  of  such  a  discourse  as  this?  What 
are  we  to  make  of  the  first  part  of  it,  in  which 
he  speaks  of  the  Father  and  his  connexion  with 
him  ?  Wliat  of  the  second  part  of  it,  in  which 
he  speaks  to  tlie  Jews  and  of  their  treatment 
of  him  ?  We  know  not  which  would  be  the 
worst, — the  arrogance  in  tlie  one  direction,  or 
the  presumption  and  uncharitableness  in  the 
other, — if  this  were  but  a  man  speaking  of  the 
Creator,  and  to  his  fellows.  It  can  alone  re- 
lieve him  from  the  guilt  of  profane  assumption 
towards  God,  and  unlicensed  liberty  with  man, 
to  believe  that  Jesus  was  really  that  which  the 
Jews  regarded  him  as  claiming  to  be,  the  Son 
of,  the  equal  with,  the  Father,  whom  all  men 
should  honor  even  as  they  honor  God. 

But  let  me  ask  now  your  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  circumstances  under  which  this 
marvellous  discourse  was  spoken,  and  to  the 
object  which,  in  the  first  instance,  as  at  first 
delivered,  it  was  intended  to  serve.  Jesus  vol- 
untarily, intentionally,  created  the  occasion  for 
its  delivery.  The  miracle  here — the  healing 
of  the  impotent  man  at  the  Pool  of  Bethesda — 
was  a  wholly  secondary  or  subordinate  matter, 
intended  to  bring  Christ  into  that  relationship 
with  the  Jewish  rulers,  which  called  for  and 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  357 

gave  its  fitness  and  point  to  this  address.  Why 
did  Jesus  choose  a  Sabbath  day  to  walk  in  the 
porches  of  Bethesda  ?  Why  did  he  do  what 
only  on  one  or  two  occasions  afterwards,  he 
did,  instead  of  waiting  to  be  applied  to,  himself 
single  out  the  man  and  volunteer  to  heal  him  ? 
Why  did  he  not  simply  cure  the  man,  but  bid 
him  also  take  up  his  bed  and  walk  ?  He  might 
have  chosen  another  day,  and  then,  in  the  story 
of  the  cure,  we  should  have  had  but  another 
instance  added  to  the  many  of  the  exertion  of 
our  Lord's  divine  and  beneficent  power.  He 
might  have  simply  told  the  man  to  rise  up  and 
walk,  and  none  could  have  told  how  the  cure 
had  been  effected,  or  turned  it  into  any 
charge.  He  chose  that  day,  and  he  selected 
that  man,  and  he  laid  on  him  the  command  he 
did,  for  the  very  purpose  of  bringing  himself 
front  to  front  with  the  Jewish  rulers.  At  first 
the  question  between  them  seems  to  refer  only 
to  the  right  keeping  of  the  Sabbath.  Had  Je- 
sus as  a  man,  as  a  Jew,  broken  the  Sabbath  law 
in  curing  a  man  upon  that  day  ?  Had  he  bro- 
ken it  in  telling  the  man  he  healed  to  carry  his 
bed  through  the  city  ?  Had  the  Jews  not  mis- 
understood, overstrained  the  law,  sticking  to 
its  letter,  and  violating  its  spirit  ?     These  were 


358  The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 

grave  questions,  with  which,  as  we  shall  find, 
Jesus  afterwards  did  deal,  when  on  another 
Sabbath  he  volunteered  another  cure.  But 
here  Christ  waives  all  lesser  topics — that, 
among  the  rest,  of  the  right  interpretation  of 
the  Sabbath  law — and  uses  the  antecedent  cir- 
cumstances as  the  basis  on  which  to  assert,  and 
then  amplify  and  defend,  the  truth  of  his  true 
and  only  son-ship  to  the  Father.  His  ministry 
in  Judea  was  now  about  to  close.  Aware  of 
the  desiorn  against  his  life  which  had  now  been 
formed,  and  wishing  to  baffle  it  for  a  season, 
he  retires  to  Galilee.  But  he  will  not  leave 
Jerusalem  till  he  has  given  one  full  and  public 
testimony  as  to  who  and  what  he  is,  so  that  the 
Jews,  in  continuing  to  reject  him,  shall  not  have 
it  in  their  power  to  say  that  he  has  not  re- 
vealed his  own  character,  nor  expressed  to 
them  the  real  grounds  upon  which  their  oppo- 
sition to  him  is  based. 

Such  was  the  special  drift  and  bearing  of  the 
address  of  Jesus  as  originally  delivered  to  the 
Jews.  But  is  there  nothing  in  its  close  appli- 
cable to  ourselves  and  to  all  men  in  every  age? 
The  same  kind  of  obstacles  that  raised  such  a 
barrier  in  the  way  of  the  Jews  believing  in 
Jesus,  do  they  not  still  exist  ?     If  the  spirit  of 


The  Pool  of  Bethesda.  359 

pride  and  worldliness,  a  conventional  piety  and 
an  extreme  thirst  for  the  applause  and  honor 
that  Cometh  from  man,  occupy  and  engross  our 
hearts,  shall  they  not  indispose  and  render  us 
unable  to  believe  simply,  heartily,  devotedly, 
on  Jesus  Christ?  Of  one  thing  let  us  be  as- 
sured, that  whatever  be  our  disposition  and 
conduct  towards  him,  his  towards  us  is  ever  a 
longing  desire  to  have  us,  keep  us,  bless  us, 
save  us  ;  and  that  the  one  and  only  thing  that 
stands  in  the  way  of  our  enjoying  all  the  bene- 
fits of  his  salvation,  is  our  own  unwillingness  ; 
his  lament  over  all  that  wander  away  from  him, 
being  ever  this.  Ye  will  not  come  to  me,  that 
ye  might  have  life 


XVIl. 

THE    SYNAGOGUE   OF   NAZAEETH.* 

IN  the  route  commonly  taken  from  Jerusalem 
to  the  Sea  of  Gralilee,  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting day's  travel  is  that  which  carries  you 
from  Jenin  across  the  three  valleys  into  which, 
at  its  upper  extremity,  the  great  plain  of 
Esdraelon  divides,  and  up  to  Nazareth,  as  it  lies 
embedded  in  the  southern  ridge  of  the  hills  of 
Galilee.  Crossing  the  first  valley,  we  skirted 
the  base  of  the  mountains  of  Gilboa,  and 
paused  for  a  few  moments  upon  a  gentle  eleva- 
tion, now  occupied  by  a  few  houses  of  the 
humblest  description,  on  which  Jezreel,  the 
ancient  capital  of  Israel,  once  stood,  with  the 
palace  of  Ahab  in  its  centre,  and  the  vineyard 
of  Naboth  in  its  outskirts.  Our  eye  wandered 
along  the  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  of  dead-level 
that    run    from   Jezreel   to    Carmel,    and   the 

«  Luke  iv.  16-31. 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth.  361 

figure  of  the  great  prophet  running  before  the 
king's  chariot  rose  before  us.  We  turned 
round  and  gazed  upon  the  slopes  of  Gilboa, 
and  the  tide  of  Saul's  last  battle  seemed  to 
roll  over  them,  and  the  sounds  of  the  funeral 
dirge  of  David  to  be  lingering  still  among  the 
hills.  The  crossing  of  the  next  valley  carried 
us  to  the  base  of  Little  Hermon,  v^^here  a  small 
hamlet  lies,  consisting  of  a  few  miserable-look- 
ing hovels,  surrounded  by  ill-kept  gardens. 
This  was  the  Sliunem  in  which  the  house  once 
stood  which  had  in  it  the  prophet's  chamber  ; 
and  these  were  the  gardens  in  one  of  which  the 
widow's  son  once  sickened  unto  death.  Leav- 
ing behind  us  the  place  which,  in  the  old  pro- 
phetic times,  saw  the  dead  child  given  back  to 
his  mother,  climbing  Little  Hermon  and  de- 
scending on  the  other  side,  we  entered  another 
village  which  witnessed  another  dead  son  given 
back  to  another  widowed  mother,  by  him  who 
touched  the  bier  and  said,  "  Young  man,  I  say 
unto  thee  arise."  Here,  in  his  village  of  Nain, 
we  came  for  the  first  time  on  the  traces  of  our 
Lord's  Galilean  ministry.  The  third  plain 
passed,  a  steep  ascent  carried  us  to  the  summit 
of  that  range  of  hills  which  forms  the  north- 
eastern  boundary  of  the  plain  of  Esdraelon. 


362  The  Synagogue  of  Nazabeth. 

Descending,  we  came  upon  a  circular,  basin- 
shaped  depression,  girdled  all  round  by  a  dozen 
or  more  swelling  hill-tops  that  rise  from  three 
to  four  hundred  feet  above  the  valley  they  en- 
close. Near  to  the  foot  of  the  highest  of  these 
surrounding  hills,  nestled  in  a  secluded  upland 
hollow,  lies  the  village  of  Nazareth.  No  village 
in  Palestine  is  liker  what  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  none  more  fitting  to  have 
been  his  residence  during  the  greater  part  of 
his  life  on  earth.  The  seclusion  is  perfect, 
greater  even  than  that  of  Bethany,  which  on 
one  side  looks  out  openly  upon  the  country 
that  stretches  away  to  the  shore  of  the  Dead 
Sea.  Nazareth  is  closed  in  on  every  side,  offer- 
ing to  us  an  emblem  of  the  seclusion  of  those 
thirty  years  which  were  passed  there  so  quietly. 
Pure  hill  breezes  play  over  the  village,  and 
temper  the  summer  heat.  The  soil  around  is 
rich,  and  yields  the  fairest  flowers  and  richest 
fruits  of  Palestine.  You  seem  shut  out  from 
the  world,  and  yet  you  have  but  to  climb  a  few 
hundred  feet  to  the  top  of  the  overlooking  hill, 
and  one  of  the  widest,  finest  prospects  in  all  the 
Holy  Land  bursts  upon  j^our  view.  Away  in 
the  west,  a  sparkling  light  plays  upon  the  wa- 
ters of  the  Mediterranean,  revealing  a  portion 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazareth.  363 

of  the  Great  Sea  that  formed  the  highway  to 
the  isles  of  the  Gentiles.  The  ridge  of  Carmel 
runs  out  into  the  waters,  closing  in  the  bold 
promontory  on  the  top  of  which  Elijah  stood 
and  discomfited  the  prophets  of  Baal.  South- 
ward, below  your  feet,  stretches  the  great  bat- 
tle-plain of  Palestine,  behind  which  rises  the 
hilly  district  of  Samaria,  through  the  opening 
between  which  and  the  mountains  of  Gilboa 
the  eye  wanders  away  eastward  across  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  Holy  Land,  till  it  rests 
upon  that  range,  the  everlasting  eastern  back- 
ground of  every  Syrian  prospect — the  moun- 
tain range  of  Bashan  and  Gilead  and  Moab. 
Turning  northward,  the  whole  hill-country  of 
Galilee  lies  spread  out  before  us,  the  Sea  of 
Gennesaret  hidden,  but  a  glimpse  of  Safed  ob- 
tained, the  city  set  upon  a  hill,  above  and  be- 
yond which  there  rise  the  snowy  heights  of 
Hermon,  called  by  the  Arabs  the  Sheikh  of  the 
Mountains. 

Up  to  the  hill-top  which  commands  this  mag- 
nificent prospect,  how  often  in  childhood,  youth 
and  early  manhood  must  Jeaus  have  ascended, 
to  gaze — who  shall  tell  us  with  what  thoughts? 
• — upon  the  chosen  scene  of  his  earthly  ministry, 
and  upon  that  sea  over  wliose  waters  the  glad 


3G4  The  Synagogue  op  Nazaeeth. 

tidings  of  salvation  were  to  be  borne  to  so 
many  lands.  It  pleases  us  to  think  that  so 
many  years  of  our  Lord's  life  were  spent  in 
such  a  home  as  that  which  Nazareth  supplied  ; 
one  so  retired,  so  rich  in  natural  beauty,  with 
glimpses  of  the  wide  world  around  for  the 
morning  or  evening  hours.  There  it  was,  in 
the  fields  below  the  village,  that  he  had 
watched  how  the  lilies  grew,  and  seen  with 
what  a  gorgeous  dress,  in  coloring  above  that 
of  kingly  purple,  their  Creator  clothed  them. 
There,  in  the  gardens,  he  had  noticed  how  the 
smallest  of  all  seeds  grew  into  the  tallest  herbs. 
There,  outside  the  house,  he  had  seen  two 
women  grinding  at  one  mill ;  inside,  a  woman 
hiding  the  leaven  in  the  dough.  There,  in  the 
market-place,  he  had  seen  the  five  sparrows 
sold  for  the  two  farthings.  The  sheep-walks 
of  the  hills  and  the  vineyards  of  the  valleys  had 
taught  him  what  were  the  offices  of  the  good 
shepherd  and  the  careful  vine-dresser  ;  and  all 
the  observations  of  those  thirty  years  were 
treasured  up  to  be  drawn  upon  in  due  time, 
and  turned  into  the  lessons  by  which  the  world 
was  to  be  taught  wisdom. 

No  means  are  left  for  ascertaining  what  im- 
pression  was  made  during  these  thirty  yeara 


The  Synagogue  op  Nazareth.  365 

upon  the  inmates  of  his  home,  the  playmates 
of  his  boyhood,  the  associates  of  his  youth,  the 
villagers  generally  in  the  midst  of  whom  he 
grew  up.  It  may  readily  be  believed  that  the 
gentleness,  the  truthfulness,  the  lovingness  dis- 
played by  him,  must  have  won  respect.  Yet 
we  can  imagine,  too,  that  the  unearthly  purity 
and  sanctity  of  such  a  childhood  and  such  a 
manhood  may  have  created  an  awe,  a  sense 
of  distance  and  separation,  which  in  meaner 
spirits  might  deepen  into  something  like  aver- 
sion and  dislike.  At  last  he  leaves  them,  and 
is  not  seen  in  Nazareth  for  many  months.  But 
the  strangest  tidings  about  him  are  afloat 
through  the  village.  First,  they  hear  of  what 
happened  at  his  baptism  in  the  Jordan,  then  of 
what  he  did  a  few  miles  off  at  Cana,  then  of 
his  miracles  in  Jerusalem,  then  of  his  curing 
the  nobleman's  son  of  Capernaum  ;  and  now  he 
is  once  more  among  them,  and  the  whole  vil- 
lage is  moved.  The  Sabbath-day  comes  round. 
He  had  been  in  the  habit  all  through  these 
thirty  years  of  attending  in  the  synagogue  ; 
sitting  there  quietly  and  unobtrusively,  taking 
part  in  the  prayers  and  praises,  listening  to  the 
reading  of  the  Law  and  of  the  Prophets,  and  to 
the  explanations  of  the  passages  wdiich   were 


366  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

read,  with  what  kind  and  amount  of  self-appH- 
cation  none  of  all  around  him  knew.  But  how 
will  he  comport  himself  in  the  new  character 
that  he  has  assumed  ?  The  synagogue  is 
crowded  with  men  among  whom  he  has  been 
brought  up,  all  curious  to  see  and  hear.  The 
earlier  part  of  the  service  goes  on  as  usual. 
The  opening  prayer  is  recited  ;  the  opening 
psalm  is  chanted  ;  the  portion  from  the  Law, 
from  the  Book  of  Moses,  is  read  by  the  ordin- 
ary minister  ;  the  time  has  come  for  the  second 
reading — that  of  some  portion  of  the  Prophets 
■ — when  Jesus  steps  forth  and  stands  in  the 
reader's  place.  There  is  no  challenging  of  his 
right  to  do  so.  It  is  not  a  right  belonging  ex- 
clusively to  priest  or  Levite  ;  any  Jew  of  any 
tribe  might  exercise  it.  But  there  was  a  func- 
tionary in  every  synagogue  regularly  appointed 
to  the  office.  This  functionary,  in  this  histance, 
at  once  gives  way,  and  hands  to  Jesus  the  roll 
of  the  prophet  out  of  which,  according  to  the 
calendar,  the  reading  for  the  day  is  to  be  taken. 
It  is  the  roll  of  the  prophet  Isaiah.  Jesus 
opens  it,  and  whether  it  was  that  the  open- 
ing verses  of  the  61st  chapter  were  those 
actually  appointed  for  that  day's  service,  or 
whether  it  was  that  the  roll  opened  at  random, 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth.  367 

and  these  verses  were  the  first  that  presented 
themselves,  or  that  Jesus,  from  the  whole 
book,  purposely  selected  the  passage,  he  read 
as  follows  :  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon 
me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  poor  ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal 
the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance  to 
the  captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to  the 
blind,  to  set  at  liberty  them  that  were  bruised  ; 
to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 
And  stopping  there,  in  the  middle  of  the  sen- 
tence, he  closed  the  book,  gave  it  to  the  minis- 
ter, and  sat  down  upon  the  raised  seat  of  the 
reader,  taking  the  attitude  usually  assumed  by 
Jewish  teachers.  There  was  a  breathless  still- 
ness. The  eyes  of  all  that  were  in  the  syna- 
gogue were  fastened  on  him.  "  This  day," 
said  Jesus,  "  is  this  scripture  fulfilled  in  your 
ears." 

It  was  a  scripture  universally  understood  to 
be  descriptive  of  the  coming  Messiah,  his  office, 
and  his  work.  Jesus  gives  no  reason  for  ap- 
propriating and  applying  it  to  himself;  he 
offers  nothing  in  the  shape  of  argument  or  evi- 
dence in  favor  of  his  being  indeed  the  Christ, 
the  anointed  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  contents 
himself  with  the  simple  authoritative  assertion 


3G8  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

of  the  fact.  We  have  indeed  but  the  first  sen- 
tence given  that  he  spoke  on  this  occasion. 
What  followed,  however,  we  may  well  believe 
to  have  been  an  exposition  of  the  passage  read, 
as  containing  an  account  of  the  true  character, 
ends,  and  objects  of  his  mission  as  the  Christ  Ox 
G  od ;  the  telling  who  the  poor  were  to  whom 
he  brought  good  tidings,  \Vho  the  bruised  and 
the  broken-hearted  were  whom  he  came  to 
heal,  who  the  bound  were  that  he  came  to  lib- 
erate, who  the  blind  whose  eyes  he  came  to 
open,  what  that  year  was  he  came  to  usher  in 
— the  long  year  of  grace  which  still  runs  on,  in 
the  course  of  which  there  is  acceptance  for  all 
of  us  with  God,  through  Christ.  As  Jesus 
spake  of  these  things — spake  with  such  ease, 
such  grace,  such  dignity — the  first  impression 
made  upon  the  Nazarenes,  his  old  familiar 
friends,  was  that  of  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion. He  had  got  no  other,  no  better  educa- 
tion than  that  which  the  poorest  of  them  had 
received.  He  had  attended  none  of  the  higher 
schools  in  any  of  the  larger  towns,  had  set  at 
the  feet  of  none  of  their  chief  rabbis  to  be  in- 
structed in  the  law ;  yet  no  rabbi  of  the  schools 
could  speak  with  greater  fluency,  greater  au- 
thority,   greater   confidence.     Soon,   however, 


The  Synagogue  ojf  Nazaeeth.  369 

as  from  the  mere  manner,  they  began  to  turn 
their  thoughts  to  the  substance  of  this  discourse, 
and  began  to  realize  what  the  position  really 
was  which  Jesus  was  assuming, — that  it  was 
nothing  short  of  the  very  highest  that  ever 
any  son  of  man  was  to  reach  ;  that  it  was  as 
the  Lord's  anointed  Christ  that  he  was  speak- 
ing, and  speaking  to  them  as  the  poor,  the 
blind,  the  captives,  to  whom  he  was  to  render 
such  services — the  admiration  turns  into  envy. 
Who  is  he  that  is  arrogating  to  himself  all  this 
dignity,  authority,  and  power  ?  who  is  speak- 
ing to  them  as  so  immeasurably  his  inferiors, 
as  needing  so  much  his  help?  Is  not  this  the 
son  of  honest,  plain  old  Joseph,  whom  we  all 
so  well  remember  as  our  village  carpenter? 
His  brethren  and  his  sisters,  are  they  not  here 
beside  us  in  the  synagogue,  listening,  appar- 
ently with  no  great  delight  or  approval,  to  this 
new  strain  in  which  their  brother  has  begun  to 
speak?  He  the  Messiah,  the  opener  of  our 
eyes,  the  healer  of  our  hearts,  our  deliverer 
from  bondage !  Before  he  asks  us  to  believe 
any  such  thing  of  him,  let  him  show  us  some 
sign  from  heaven ;  do  some  of  those  miracles 
that  they  say  he  has  done  elsewhere,  particu- 
larly at   Capernaum.     If  he  wanted  us,  who 


370  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

have  all  known  him  so  well  from  his  childhood, 
to  believe  in  him  as  a  prophet,  he  should  have 
come  to  us  first,  convinced  us  first,  unfolded 
his  credentials  to  us  first,  wrought  his  first 
miracles  here  in  Nazareth.  Jealousy  heightens 
the  offence  that  envy  had  created,  and  ere  long 
the  whole  company  in  that  synagogue  is  look- 
ing at  him  askance.  Jesus  sees  this,  and  turn- 
ing from  his  former  subject  of  discourse,  tells 
them  that  he  sees  and  knows  it,  lays  open  their 
hearts  to  them,  puts  the  very  words  into  their 
lips  that  they  were  ready  to  utter,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  vindicate  himself  for  not  showing  any 
special  sign  to  his  fellow-townsmen,  by  quoting 
two  instances  in  which  Elijah  and  Elisha,  the 
two  great  workers  of  miracles  among  the 
prophets,  passed  over  all  their  fellow-country- 
men to  show  favor  to  the  Sidonian  widow  and 
the  Syrian  officer.  There  is  nothing  that  men 
dislike  more  than  that  the  evil  and  the  bitter 
things  hidden  in  their  breasts  should  be  brought 
to  liglit.  It  aggravates  this  dislike  when  the 
discoverer,  and  revealer  of  their  thoughts,  is 
the  very  person  against  whom  the  malignant 
sentiment  is  cherished.  Should  he  remain 
calm  and  unimpassioned,  neither  taken  by  sur- 
prise, nor  betraying  irritation,  they  are  so  much 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazaketh.  371 

the  more  incensed.  So  felt  the  Nazarenes  un- 
der the  address  of  our  Lord  ;  and  when  he 
proceeded  to  assume  the  mantle  of  Elijah  and 
Elisha.  as  if  he  were  of  the  same  order  with 
these  great  prophets  of  the  olden  time,  it  is 
more  than  they  can  any  longer  hear.  They 
will  be  lectured  no  more  in  such  a  way  by  the 
son  of  the  carpenter.  They  rise,  they  rush 
upon  him,  they  thrust  him  out  of  the  village, 
and  on  to  the  brow  of  a  precipice  over  which 
they  would  have  hurled  him  ;  but  it  pleased 
him  to  put  forth  that  power,  and  to  lay  upon 
them  that  spell  which  he  laid  upon  the  high- 
priest's  band  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane. 
They  are  hurrying  him  to  the  brow  of  the  hillj 
he  turns,  he  looks,  the  spell  is  on  them,  their 
hands  drop  powerless  by  their  sides  ;  he  passes 
through  the  midst  of  them,  they  offer  no  resist- 
ance, and  before  they  recover  themselves  he  is 
gone. 

About  two  miles  from  Nazareth,  there  is  a 
hill  which  shows,  upon  the  side  facing  the  plain 
of  Esdraelon,  a  long  and  steep  descent.  The 
monks  of  the  middle  ages — the  determiners  oi 
most  of  the  sites  of  the  holy  places  in  Pales- 
tine— fixed  on  this  as  the  precipice  over  which 
the   angry  Nazarenes  designed  to  throw  our 


372  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

Saviour,  and  gave  it  the  name  of  the  Mount  of 
Precipitation.  The  very  distance  of  this  mount 
from  the  village,  goes  far  to  disprove  the  tra- 
dition regarding  it.  But  though  this  distance 
had  been  less,  it  could  not  have  been  the  place, 
for  it  is  distinctly  stated  by  the  Evangehst  that 
it  was  a  brow  of  the  hill  on  which  the  city  was 
built  from  which  they  intended  to  cast  him. 
Modern  travellers  are  all  agreed  that  it  must 
have  been  from  some  part  of  the  rocky  chff 
which  overhangs  the  oldest  quarter  of  the  pre- 
sent village  of  Nazareth  that  Jesus  was  about 
to  have  been  thrown.  This  rocky  cliff  extends 
for  some  distance  along  the  hill  on  which  Naz- 
areth is  built,  and  shows  at  different  points  per- 
pendicular descents  of  from  thirty  to  forty  feet, 
which,  as  they  have  been  filled  up  below  with 
accumulations  of  rubbish,  must  originally  have 
been  much  deeper.  Any  one  of  these  would 
go  far  answer  to  the  description  given  by  the 
Evangelist.  In  taking  this  view,  however,  it  is 
necessary  to  suppose  that  on  leaving  the  syna- 
gogue, with  the  deliberate  intention  of  killing 
him,  the  infuriated  Nazarenes  either  forced 
Jesus  up  the  height  from  which  they  designed 
afterwards  to  cast  him,  or  made  a  circuit  up 
and  round  the  hill,  in  order  to  reach  the  in 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazareth.  373 

tended  spot.  The  same  ascent  which  it  must 
have  been  needful  thus  to  make,  I  made,  in 
company  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Zeller,  who  for 
some  years  has  been  resident  as  a  missionary 
in  Nazareth.  On  getting  to  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  we  found  ourselves  on  a  nearly  level 
plateau  of  considerable  extent.  There  were 
no  houses  on  this  plateau,  but  Mr.  Zeller  pointed 
out  to  us,  here  and  there,  those  underground 
cisterns  which  are  the  almost  infallible  signs  of 
houses  having  once  been  in  the  neighborhood. 
Here,  then,  on  this  plateau,  a  portion,  if  not 
the  whole,  of  the  ancient  Nazareth  may  have 
stood.  If  it  was  so,  if  even  a  few  houses  of 
the  old  village  were  here,  then,  as  we  know  it 
to  have  been  the  rule  that,  wherever  it  was 
possible,  the  synagogue  was  built  on  the  high- 
est ground  in  or  near  the  city  or  village  to 
which  it  belonged,  it  must  have  been  on  this 
elevated  ground  that  the  synagogue  of  Naza- 
reth stood,  not  far  from  the  brow  of  the  hill. 
It  seems  more  likely  that  the  Nazarenes  should, 
in  the  phrenzy  of  the  moment,  have  attempted 
to  throw  our  Lord  from  a  precipice  quite  at 
hand,  than  that,  acting  on  a  deliberate  purpose, 
they  should  have  spent  some  time,  and  chmbed 
a  hill  in  order  to  its  execution. 


374:  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

But  turning  now  from  the  locality  and  out- 
ward circumstances  of  this  event  hi  our  Sa- 
viour's life,  let  us  try  to  enter  into  its  meaning 
and  spirit.  So  far  as  we  know,  this  was  the 
first  occasion  on  which  Jesus  addressed  an  audi- 
ence of  his  countrymen  in  the  synagogue  on 
the  Sabbath-day  ;  it  would  appear  indeed  to 
have  been  the  only  one  on  which  he  took  the 
duty  of  the  reader  as  well  as  that  of  the  ex- 
horter.  It  was  a  common  enough  thing  for 
any  one,  even  a  stranger,  to  be  asked,  when 
the  proper  service  of  the  synagogue  was  over, 
to  address  some  words  of  instruction  or  en- 
couragement to  the  audience.  The  Gospels  tell 
us  how  frequently  Jesus  made  use  of  this  op- 
portunity ;  and  you  may  remember  how  at 
Antioch  in  Pisidia,  after  the  reading  of  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets,  the  rulers  of  the  sj^nagogue 
sent  unto  Paul  and  Barnabas,  saying,  "  Men 
and  brethren,  if  ye  have  any  word  of  exhorta- 
tion for  the  people,  say  on."  The  peculiarity 
of  the  incident  now  before  us  lay  in  this,  that 
Jesus  first  read  the  passage  from  the  Prophets, 
and  then  grounded  directly  upon  it  the  address 
which  he  delivered.  In  this  respect  we  might 
regard  it  as  the  first  sermon  ever  preached  ;  the 
text  chosen,  and  the  discourse  uttered  by  our 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth.  375 

Lord  himself.  Had  these  Nazarenes,  who,  in 
their  insatiate  and  zealous  craving  after  signs 
and  wonders,  wanted  him  only  to  do  the  same 
or  greater  things  than  he  had  done  in  Caper- 
naum, but  known  how  highly  honored,  far 
above  that  of  its  being  made  a  mere  theatre 
for  the  exhibition  of  divine  power,  their  syna- 
gogue was,  in  being  the  first  place  on  earth  in 
which  that  instrument  was  employed  which  has 
been  so  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling 
down  of  the  strongholds  of  the  ungodly,  and 
the  upbuilding  of  the  Church,  their  vanity 
might  have  been  gratified  ;  but  they  slighted 
the  privilege  thus  enjoyed,  and  so  lost  the  ben- 
efit. 

The  body  of  the  first  synagogue  sermon  of 
our  Saviour  has  been  lost.  The  te:  t  and  intro- 
ductory sentence  alone  remain,  but  how  much 
do  they  reveal  to  us  of  the  natur  i,  the  need- 
fulness, the  preciousness  of  those  spiritual  of- 
fices which  our  Divine  Redeem  ir  came  on 
earth  to  execute,  and  which  he  stills  stands 
waiting  to  discharge  towards  our  sinful  hu- 
manity !  It  was  to  a  company  of  a  few  hun- 
dreds at  the  most  that  the  words  of  Jesus 
were  spoken  in  the  synagogue  i^t  Nazareth  ; 
but  that  desk  from  which  they  were  spoken, 


376  The  Synagogue  of  Nazat^eth. 

was  turned  into  the  centre  of  a  circle  whose 
bounds  are  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  that 
audience  has  multiphed  to  take  in  the  whole 
family  of  mankind.  To  the  men  of  every  land 
in  every  age,  Jesus  has  been  thus  proclaiming 
what  the  great  ends  are  of  his  mission  to  this 
earth.  To  open  blinded  eyes,  to  heal  bruised 
and  bleeding  and  broken  hearts,  to  unlock  the 
doors,  and  unloose  the  fetters  of  the  im- 
prisoned and  the  bound  ;  to  announce  to  the 
poor,  the  meek,  the  humble,  that  theirs  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ;  and  to  proclaim  to  all 
that  this  is  the  year  of  our  Lord,  the  long  year 
of  Christ  that  takes  in  all  the  centuries  down 
to  his  Second  Coming,  the  year  in  every  day 
and  every  hour  and  every  moment  of  which 
our  heavenly  Father  waits  to  forgive,  receive, 
accept,  all  contrite  ones  who  come  to  him. 
Such,  our  Saviour  tells  us,  i-s  that  great  work  of 
grace  and  power  for  whose  accomplishment  he 
has  been  anointed  of  the  Father  and  replenished 
by  the  Spirit.  In  that  high  office  to  which  he 
has  thus  been  set  apart,  and  for  which  he  has 
been  thus  qualified,  we  all  need  his  services. 
There  is  a  spiritual  blindness  which  Jesus  only 
can  remove  ;  a  spiritual  imprisonment  from 
which  he  only  can  release  ;  a  deadly  spiritual 


The  Synagogue  of  Nazareth.  377 

malady  eating  in  upon  our  heart  which  he  alone 
can  heal.  And  shall  he  not  do  all  this  for  us, 
if  we  feel  our  need  of  its  being  done,  since  the 
doing  of  it  is  the  very  design  of  his  most  gra- 
cious ministry  among  the  sinful  children  of 
men  ?  Let  us  not  do  him  the  injustice  to  be- 
lieve that  he  will  be  indifferent  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  very  errand  of  mercy  on 
which  he  came,  or  that  he  will  refuse  in  ours  or 
in  any  case  to  enlighten  and  emancipate,  bind 
up  and  heal. 

It  seems  to  us  to  throw  a  distinct,  and,  though 
not  a  very  broad,  yet  a  very  clear  and  beauti- 
ful beam  of  light  on  the  graciousness  of  our 
Lord's  character,  that  instead  of  reading  the 
number  of  verses  ordinarily  recited,  he  stopped 
where  he  did  in  his  quotation  from  Isaiah.  Had 
he  gone  on,  he  should  have  said,  "  to  proclaim 
the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,  and  the  day 
of  vengeance  of  our  God."  Why  not  go  on, 
why  pause  thus  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence  ? 
not  assuredly  that  he  meant  either  to  deny  or 
hide  the  truth,  that  the  day  of  vengeance 
would  follow  upon  the  acceptable  year,  if  the 
opportunities  of  that  year  were  abused  and  lost ; 
but  that  then  and  now,  it  is  his  chosen  riiiJ 
most   grateful   office  to  throw  wide  open  ifie 


378  The  Synagogue  of  Nazaeeth. 

arms    of  the  heavenly  mercy,  and   invite    all 
to  throw  themselves  into  them  and  be  saved. 

But  though  he  came  in  the  Spirit  to  those 
among  whom  he  had  been  brought  up,  though 
he  came  thus  to  his  own,  by  his  own  he  was  not 
received,  by  his  own  he  was  despised  and  re- 
jected. His  treatment  at  Nazareth  was  a  fore- 
shadowing of  the  treatment  given  generally  to 
him  by  his  countrj^men,  and  terminating  in  his 
crucifixion  on  Calvary.  The  rude  handling  in 
the  Galilean  village,  the  binding,  the  scourging, 
the  crucifying  in  the  Jewish  capital,  ware  types 
of  that  still  rougher  spiritual  handling,  that 
crucifying  of  our  Lord  afresh  which  the  world, 
in  every  age,  has  gone  on  repeating.  It  was 
their  very  familiarity  with  him  in  the  intercourse 
of  daily  life  which  proved  such  a  snare  to  the 
Nazarenes,  and  tempted  them  into  their  great 
offence.  Let  us  fear  lest  our  famiharity  with 
him  of  another  kind — the  frequency  with  which 
we  hear  about  him,  and  read  about  him,  and 
have  him  in  one  way  or  other  set  before  us — 
blind  our  eyes  and  blunt  our  heart  to  the  won- 
ders of  his  redeeming  love,  and  exceeding  riches 
of  his  grace  and  power. 


XYIII. 

FIRST   SABBATH   IN   CAPERNAUM,  AND    FIRST    CIR- 
CUIT   OF    GALILEE.* 

THE  first  eight  months  of  our  Lord's  minis- 
try were  spent,  as  we  have  seen,  in  Ju- 
dea.  By  the  sign  from  heaven,  by  the  Bap- 
tist's proclamation,  by  Christ's  own  words  and 
deeds,  he  was  presented  to  the  rulers  and  to 
the  people  as  the  Son  of  God,  the  Messiah. 
His  character  was  misunderstood  ;  his  claims 
were  rejected.  At  Jerusalem  a  plot  against 
his  life  was  formed ;  it  was  no  longer  safe  for 
him  to  reside  where  the  Jewish  authorities  had 
power.  Jesus  retired  to  Galilee  (John  iv.  1-3). 
Besides  the  purpose  of  placing  himself  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  of  Je- 
rusalem, another  circumstance  seems  to  have 
had  its  influence  in  directing  Christ's  footsteps 

*  Matt.  iv.  12-22,  23-25  :  Mark  L  21-39  ;  Luke  iv.  i2-A4>, 


380  FiEST  Sabbath  m  Capeknaum, 

into  Galilee.  He  heard  that  John  was  cast 
into  prison.  The  Baptist's  work  was  over  ;  the 
labors  of  the  Forerunner  were  closed  ;  the 
ground  was  open  for  Jesus  to  occupy.  Hith- 
erto, in  his  earlier  Judean  ministry,  he  had 
neither  pubhcly  taught  in  the  synagogues,  nor 
openly  and  indiscriminately  healed  the  sick, 
nor  called  any  other  disciples  to  his  side  than 
those  who  voluntarily  and  temporarily  followed 
him.*  We  may  safely  say,  then,  that  prior  to 
his  appearance  in  Galilee,  he  had  taken  no  steps 
either  to  proclaim  the  advent  of  the  kingdom, 
or,  by  the  selection  of  a  band  of  chosen  adhe- 
rents, to  lay  the  foundation  of  that  new  econ- 
omy which  was  to  take  the  place  of  the  one 
which  was  now  waxing  old,  and  was  ready  to 
vanish  away.     It  looks  as  if,  before  fully  and 

*  His  disciples,  indeed,  in  imitation  of  John's  practice,  had  be- 
gun to  baptize,  but  as  soon  as  "  the  Lord  knew  how  the  Pharisees 
had  heard  that  Jesus  had  made  and  baptized  more  disciples  than 
John  (though  Jesus  himself  baptized  not,  but  his  disciples),  he 
left  Judea,  and  departed  again  into  Gahlee  "  (John  iv.  1-3).  It 
•would  seem  to  have  been  a  sudden  impulse  of  zeal  in  their  Mas- 
ter's cause  which  led  those  first  disciples  to  engage  so  eagerly  in 
baptizing, — a  zeal  which,  instead  of  checking  or  rebuking,  Jesus 
dealt  with  by  quietly  cutting  off  the  occasion  for  its  display.  By 
his  own  removal  to  Galilee,  an  entirely  new  state  of  things  was 
ushered  in,  and  by  John's  imprisonment  his  baptisms  ceased  ;  nor 
do  we  read  anywhere  of  a  Galilean  baptism  by  the  disciples  of 
Jesus. 


And  First  Cmcuir  or  Galilee.         381 

openly  entering  on  the  task  of  providing  a  sub- 
stitute for  that  Judaic  economy  which  his  own 
kingdom  was  to  overturn,  Jesus  had  gone  up 
to  Jerusalem,  and  given  to  the  head  and  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Jewish  common vt^ealth  the 
choice  of  receiving  or  rejecting  him  as  their 
Messiah.  It  was  not,  at  least,  till  after  he  had 
been  so  rejected  in  Judea,  that  he  began  in 
Galilee  to  preach  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom 
(Matt.  i.  15),  and  to  plant  the  first  seeds  of 
that  tree  whose  leaves  were  to  be  for  the  heal- 
ing of  the  nations.  This  helps  to  explain  at 
once  the  marked  difference  between  Christ's 
course  of  conduct  during  the  period  which  im- 
mediately succeeded  his  baptism,  which  was 
passed  in  Judea,  and  the  laborious  months  in 
Galilee  which  followed,  and  the  marked  silence 
regarding  the  former  which  is  preserved  by  the 
first  three  Evangelists,  who  all  make  our  Lord's 
ministry  begin  in  Galilee,  and  contain  no  allu- 
sion to  anything  as  happening  between  the 
temptation  in  the  wilderness  and  the  opening 
of  his  ministry  there.  Nor  do  they  allude  to 
any  visits  of  Jesus  to  Jerusalem  prior  to  those 
which  he  made  after  his  final  departure  from 
Gahlee,  and  which  preceded  his  crucifixion. 
With  them,  up  to  that  time,  Galilee  appears 


382  FiEST  Sabbath  m  Capernaum, 

as  the  exclusive  theatre  of  our  Lord's  labors. 
It  is  to  the  supplemental  Gospel  of  St.  John 
that  we  are  indebted  for  all  our  knowledge  of 
the  memorable  incidents  in  Judea,  which  pre- 
ceded the  first  preaching  in  the  synagogue  of 
Nazareth.  We  can  understand  this  singular 
silence  of  the  first  three  Evangelists,  if  we  re- 
gard our  Lord's  earlier  appearance  and  resi- 
dence in  Judea  as  constituting  rather  a  pre- 
liminary deahng  with  the  Jews,  in  the  way  of 
testing  their  disposition  and  capacity  to  wel- 
come him  as  their  own  last  and  greatest  pro- 
phet, than  as  forming  an  integral  part  of  that 
work  whereby  the  foundations  of  the  Christian 
church  were  laid. 

Rejected  by  the  chiefs  of  the  people  in  the 
capital,  Jesus  comes  to  Galilee.  There,  in  the 
synagogue  of  that  town  in  which  he  had  lived 
so  many  years,  he  first  publicly  proclaims  his 
office  and  his  work,  as  the  healer  of  the  broken 
hearted,  the  restorer  of  sight  to  the  blind,  the 
deliverer  of  the  captives,  the  preacher  of  the 
gospel  to  the  poor — an  office  and  a  work  which 
had  nothing  of  confinement  in  it,  nothing  re- 
stricting it  to  any  one  age  or  country.  But 
there,  too,  by  his  feUow-townsmen  at  Nazareth, 
as  by  the  rulers  of  the  capital,  he  is  rejected, 


And  Fiest  Ciecuit  of  Galilee.         383 

and  so  he  descends  to  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of 
Gahlee.  Walking  by  these  shores,  he  sees  first 
Andrew  and  Peter  casting  a  net  into  the  sea. 
lie  says  to  them,  "  Follow  me,  and  I  will  make 
you  fishers  of  men.  Straightway  they  leave 
all  and  follow  him."  A  little  farther  on, 
another  pair  of  brothers,  James  and  John,  are 
in  their  boat  mending  their  nets.  He  calls 
them  in  the  same  way,  and  they  leave  their 
boat  and  their  nets,  their  father  and  the  hired 
servants,  and  follow.  He  was  not  speaking  to 
strangers,  to  those  previously  ignorant  or  indis- 
posed to  follow  him.  Andrew  was  one  of  the 
two  disciples  of  John  who  had  heard  the  Bap- 
tist say,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,"  and  w^ho 
had  followed  Jesus.  The  other  of  these  two 
disciples  was  John.  Andrew  had  brought  his 
brother  Peter  to  Jesus  ;  and  though  it  is  not 
said  that  John  had  done  the  same  with  his 
brother  James,  the  latter  must  already  have 
been  acquainted  with  Christ.  Andrew,  Peter, 
and  John  had  followed  Jesus  from  Bethabara 
to  Oana,  and  had  witnessed  there  the  first  of 
his  miracles.  They  had  been  up  at  Jerusalem 
and  seen  the  miracles  which  Jesus  wrought 
at  the  first  Passover  which  he  attended.  They 
may  have  taken   part  in  the   baptizing,  may 


384  First  Sabbath  in  Capernaum, 

have  been  with  Jesus  at  the  well  of  Jacob. 
Mention  is  made  of  disciples  of  Jesus  being 
there  with  him,  and  who  so  likely  to  be  among 
them  as  those  who  first  followed  him  from  Beth- 
abara  ?  But  they  do  not  appear  as  yet  to 
have  attached  themselves  permanently  to  his 
person,  nor  to  have  attended  him  on  his  re- 
turn from  his  second  visit  to  the  metropolis, 
nor  to  have  been  with  him  at  Nazareth.  The 
stopping  of  the  baptisms,  the  imprisonment  of 
John,  the  scattering  of  his  disciples,  may  have 
thrown  them  into  some  doubt  as  to  the  inten- 
tions of  the  new  Teacher.  For  a  time  at  least 
they  had  returned  to  their  old  occupation  as 
fishermen,  and  were  busily  employed  at  it 
when  Jesus  met  them  ;  but  his  voice  fell  upon 
ears  that  welcomed  its  sound,  his  command 
upon  spirits  that  were  ready  to  obey.  Not  that 
they  understood  as  yet  that  the  summons  was 
one  to  relinquish  finally  their  earthly  calHng. 
The  present  was  but  a  preliminary  invitation 
to  follow  Jesus, — and  chiefly  by  hearing  what 
he  said,  and  watching  what  he  did,  to  be  in- 
structed by  him  in  the  higher  art  of  catching 
men.  It  was  not  till  weeks  afterwards  that 
they  were  solemnly  set  apart  as  his  apostles. 
In  the  meantime,  however,  they  accompa- 


And  Fikst  CmcmT  of  Galilee.         385 

nied  him  into  Capernaum.  The  entrance  of 
Jesus,  attended  by  the  two  well-known  broth- 
ers,— who,  from  the  mention  of  hired  servants 
belonging  to  one  of  them,  we  may  believe, 
ranked  high  among  their  craft, — was  soon 
known  throughout  all  the  town.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  Capernaum  had  already  heard  enough 
about  him  to  excite  their  liveliest  curiosity. 
That  curiosity  had  the  keenest  edge  put  on  it 
by  the  manner  in  which  the  cure  of  the  noble- 
man's child  had  been  effected.  And  now  he  is 
amongst  them.  It  would  be  a  crowded  syna- 
gogue on  the  Sabbath-day,  when  he  stood  up 
there  to  preach  for  the  first  time  the  gospel  of 
the  kingdom  of  God.  Nothing  of  what  he 
said  upon  this  occasion  has  been  preserved. 
The  impression  and  effect  upon  his  auditors  are 
alone  recorded :  "  They  were  astonished  at  his 
doctrine  ;  for  he  taught  them  as  one  having 
authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes  ;"  "  his  word 
was  with  power"  (Mark  i.  22  ;  Luke  iv.  32). 
The  scribes,  the  ordinary  instructors  of  the 
people,  presented  themselves  simply  as  expos- 
itors of  the  law,  written  and  traditional,  claim- 
ing no  separate  or  independent  authority,  con- 
tent with  simply  discharging  the  office  of  com- 
mentators, and  resting  their  individual  claims  to 


386  FiEST  Sabbath  in  Capebnaum, 

respect  on  the  manner  in  which  that  office  was 
fuhilled.  But  here  is  a  teacher  of  quite  a  new 
order,  who  busies  himself  with  none  of  those 
difficult  or  disputed  questions  about  which  the 
rabbis  diffisred ;  who  speaks  to  the  people 
about  a  new  kingdom — the  kingdom  of  God — 
to  be  set  up  among  them,  and  that  in  a  tone  of 
earnestness,  certainty,  authority,  to  which  they 
were  unaccustomed.  What  can  this  new  king- 
dom be,  and  what  position  in  it  can  this  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  occupy? 

Of  one  thing  they  are  speedily  apprised,  that 
it  is  a  kingdom  opposed  to  that  of  Satan,  in- 
tended to  destroy  it.  For  among  them  was  a 
man  possessed  with  a  devil,  who  as  Jesus  stood 
speaking  to  them,  broke  in  upon  his  discourse, 
and,  with  a  voice  so  loud  as  to  startle  the  whole 
synagogue,  cried  out,  addressing  himself  to 
Jesus,  "  Let  us  alone  ;  what  have  we  to  do  with 
thee,  thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;  art  thou  come 
to  destroy  us?  I  know  thee  who  thou  art,  the 
Holy  One  of  God."  He  speaks  in  the  name  of 
others,  as  representing  the  whole  company  of 
evil  spirits,  to  whom,  at  that  time,  here  and 
there,  it  had  been  allowed  to  usurp  the  seat  of 
will  and  power  in  human  breasts,  and  so  to 
possess  the  men  in  whom  they  dwelt  as  to  strip 


Am)  First  Circuit  of  Galilee.  387 

them  of  their  volition  and  conscious  identity, 
and  to  turn  them  into  human  demons.  But 
how  came  this  human  demon  into  the  syna- 
gogue, and  what  prompted  him  to  utter  such 
cries  of  horror  and  of  spite  ?  Was  this  devil 
as  much  beside  himself  as  the  poor  man  in 
whom  he  dwelt  ?  Had  the  presence,  the  look, 
the  words  of  Jesus  such  a  power  over  him  that 
as  the  man  could  not  regulate  or  restrain  his 
own  actions,  so  neither  could  the  devil  regulate 
or  restrain  his  thoughts  and  words  ?  His  excla- 
mations sound  to  our  ear  like  the  mad,  involun- 
tary, impotent  outcries  of  the  vassals  of  a  king- 
dom who  feel  that  the  reins  of  empire  are  passing 
out  of  their  hands,  but  who  cannot  give  them  up 
without  telling  who  the  greater  than  they  is  who 
has  come  to  dispossess  them  of  their  power. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  kind  of 
pressure  under  which  the  devil  who  possessed 
this  man  acted ;  whether  the  testimony  he  gave 
to  our  Lord's  character  be  regarded  as  free  and 
spontaneous,  intended  rather  to  injure  than  to 
honor;  or  whether  it  be  regarded  as  unwillingly 
drawn  forth  by  close  personal  contact  with  the 
Holy  One,  the  testimony  so  given  was  not  wel- 
comed by  Christ.  It  came  unsuitably  from  a 
quarter  whence  no  witness  should  be  borne  to 


388  First  Sabbath  m  Capernaum, 

him^  nor  was  wished  for,  as  it  came  unseason- 
ably,  when   premature   relations   of  his    true 
character  were  not  desired.     In  other  instance? 
as  well  as  this  Jesus  did  not  suffer  the  devils  to 
speak,  ''because  they  knew  him,"  acting  as  t(» 
them  on  the  same  principle  on  which  he  ofter- 
cautioned  those  whom  he  healed  and  his  owr 
disciples,  not  to  make  him  known,  seeking  by 
such  repression  to  prevent  any  hurrying  for- 
ward before  its  time  of  what  he  knew  would 
be  the  closing  catastrophe  of  his  career.     But 
though  refused  thus,  and  as  it  were  rejected 
by  our  Lord,  its  first  wild  impatient  utterances 
all  that  it   was  permitted  to    give   forth,  this 
voice  is  most  striking  to  us  now  as  a  testimony 
from  the  demon-world,  through  which  a  know- 
ledge of  who  Jesus  truly  was  seems  so  rapidly 
to  have  circulated.     The  Prince  of  Darkness, 
in  his  temptation  of  our  Lord  a  year  before, 
seems  himself  to  have  been  in  some  doubt,  as 
he  put  the  question  so  often,  "If  thou  be  the 
Son  of  God."     But  no  doubt  was  entertained 
by  the  devils  who  came,  as  Luke  tells  us,  "out 
of  many,    crying   out   and   saying,   Thou   art 
Christ,  the  Son  of  Grod"  (Luke  iv.  41.)     Some 
have    thought   that    those    demoniacs    whom 
Christ  cured  were  lunatics,  and  nothing  more ; 


Am)  FiKST  CiECUiT  OF  Galilee.  889 

men  whose  deranged  and  disordered  intellects 
were  soothed  down  into  calmness  and  order  by 
the  gentle  yet  firm  voice  and  look  and  power 
of  Christ.  But  what  are  we  to  make  of  the 
unique  testimony  that  so  many  of  them  gave 
to  Christ's  Messiahship  and  Sonship  to  God, 
and  that  at  the  very  commencement  of  his 
ministry  ?  Were  lunatics  the  only  ones  who 
knew  him  ?  or  whence  got  they  such  knowledge 
and  such  faith  ? 

Accepting,  with  whatever  mystery  the  whole 
subject  of  demoniac  possessions  is  clothed,  the 
simple  account  of  the  Evangelists,  it  does  ap- 
pear most  wonderful, — the  quick  intelligence, 
the  wild  alarm,  the  terror-striking  faith  that 
then  pervaded  the  demon-world,  as  if  all  the 
spirits  of  hell  who  had  been  suffered  to  make 
human  bodies  their  habitation,  grew  pale  at 
the  very  presence  of  Jesus,  and  could  not  but 
cry  out  in  the  extremity  of  their  despair. 

"  Hold  thy  peace,"  said  Jesus  to  the  devil  in 
tue  synagogue,  "and  come  out  of  him."  The 
man  was  seen  to  fall,  torn  as  by  violent  con- 
vulsions ;  a  loud,  inarticulate,  fiendish  cry  was 
heard  to  issue  from  his  lips  ;*  hale  and  unhurt, 
the  devil  gone,  the  man  hhnself  again,  he  rose 

•  Mark  i.  36  ;  Litke  iv.  35. 


390  FiKST  Sabbath  in  Capebnaum, 

to  converse  with  those  around,  and  to  return 
to  his  home  and  friends.  Amazement  beyond 
description  seized  at  once  on  all  who  saw  or 
heard  of  what  had  happened.  Men  said  to 
one  another,  in  the  synagogue,  on  the  streets, 
by  the  highways,  What  thing  is  this,  what  a 
word  is  this  !  for  with  authority  he  command- 
eth  even  the  unclean  spirits  and  they  do  obey 
him.  And  immediately  (it  could  scarce  well 
have  been  otherwise),  the  fame  of  him  went 
out  into  every  place  of  the  country,  and  spread 
abroad  throughout  all  the  region  round  about 
Galilee."*  Chiefly,  however,  in  Capernaum  did 
the  excitement  prevail,  begun  by  the  cure  of 
the  demoniac  in  the  synagogue,  quickened  by 
another  cure  that  followed  within  an  hour  or 
two.  The  service  of  the  synagogue  closed  be- 
fore the  mid-day  meal.  At  its  close  Jesus  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  to  go  to  the  house  of 
Simon  and  Andrew.  These  brothers,  as  we 
know,  were  natives  of  Bethsaida,  and  had  hith- 
erto resided  there.  But  recently  they  had 
removed  to  Capernaum.  Peter  having  mar- 
ried, and  perhaps  taken  up  his  abode  in  the 
house  of  his  mother-in-law,  James  and  John 
were  also  of  the  invited  guests.     Jesus  did  not 

*  Maxk  I  27,  28  ;  Luke  iv.  36,  37. 


And  Fiest  Ciecuit  of  Galilee.  391 

know  that  the  house  he  went  to  was  one  of 
sickness,  and  his  ignorance  in  this  respect 
creates  the  behef  that  it  was  the  first  time  he 
had  entered  it.  But  soon  he  hears  that  the 
great  fever  (it  is  the  physician  Luke  who  in 
this  way  describes  it)  has  seized  upon  Simon's 
wife's  mother.  They  tell  him  of  it ;  he  goes  to, 
bends  kindly  over  her,  takes  her  by  the  hand, 
rebukes  the  fever.  The  cure  is  instantaneous 
and  complete.  She  rises,  as  if  no  disease  had 
ever  weakened  her,  with  glad  and  grateful 
spirit  to  wait  upon  Jesus  and  the  rest.  And 
so  within  that  home,  kindly  hands  were  pro- 
vided, like  those  of  Martha  at  Bethany,  to  min- 
ister to  the  Saviour's  wants  during  the  busiest, 
most  toilsome  period  of  his  life,  when,  in  season 
and  out  of  season,  early  in  the  morning,  and 
far  on  often  in  the  night,  he  came  and  went, 
living  longer  under  that  roof  of  Peter's  house 
at  Capernaum,  than  under  any  other  that  shel- 
tered him  after  his  public  ministry  had  begun. 
This  cure,  too,  was  noised  abroad  through  the 
city.  Here  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost, 
for  who  could  tell  but  that  next  morning  Jesus 
will  be  gone?  Though  it  was  the  Sabbath, 
Jesus  had  not  scrupled  to  eject  the  devil  and 
rebuke  the  fever  ;  but  the  people  could  not  so 


892  FiEST  Sabbath  in  Capeenaum, 

easily  get  over  their  scruples.  They  wait  till 
the  sun  has  set  before  they  apply  to  this  new 
and  strange  physician.  But  meanwhile  all  that 
were  diseased  in  Capernaum,  and  all  that  were 
possessed  were  brought.  All  the  city  has  gath- 
ered together  at  the  door  of  Peter's  house. 
The  sun  goes  down,  and  Jesus  steps  out  into 
that  bustling,  anxious  crowd  ;  he  lays  his  hand 
on  every  one  of  the  diseased,*  and  heals  them, 
and  casts  out  all  the  spirits  with  his  word.  The 
stars  would  be  shining  brightly  in  the  heavens 
ere  the  busy  blessed  work  was  done,  and  with- 
in a  few  hours  a  city  which  numbered  many 
thousand  inhabitants  saw  disease  of  every  kind 
banished  from  its  borders. 

After  the  excitement  and  fatigue  of  such  a 
day,  Jesus  may  lay  his  head  peacefully  on  his 
pillow,  and  take  the  rest  that  such  labor  has 
earned.  But  long  before  the  others — While 
yet  they  are  all  sleeping  in  Simon's  house 
around  him — rising  up  a  great  while  before 
day,  he  goes  out  into  a  solitary  place  to  pray. 
Was  it  on  his  own  account  that  Jesus  thus 
retired  ?  Was  his  spirit  too  much  under  the 
distracting  influence  which  such  a  scene  of 
bustle  and  excitement  as  he  had  passed  through 

*  Luke  iv.  iO. 


And  FmsT  Ciecuit  of  Gauxee.  393 

the  day  before,  was  fitted  to  exert  ?  Did  he 
feel  the  need  to  calm  the  inward  tumult,  by 
eilent  and  sohtary  communion  with  Heaven? 
As  we  follow  his  footsteps,  let  us  be  careful  to 
notice  and  to  remember  in  what  circumstances 
it  was  that  Christ  resorted  to  special,  solitary, 
continued  prayer.  But  in  leaving  Capernaum, 
alone  and  so  early,  Jesus  had  in  view  the  state 
of  others  as  well  as  his  own.  He  was  well 
aware  how  apt,  in  his  case,  the  office  of  the 
healer,  the  wonder-worker,  was  to  overshadow 
that  of  the  teacher,  the  preacher  of  the  glad 
tidings  ;  how  ready  the  inhabitants  of  Caper- 
naum already  were  to  hail  and  honor  him  in 
this  one  character,  however  little  they  might 
be  disposed  to  regard  or  obey  him  in  the  other. 
He  had  done  enough  of  the  one  kind  of  work, 
had  got  enough  of  that  one  kind  of  homage, 
there.  And  so,  when,  after  an  eager  search 
for  him,  he  is  found, — and  Simon  and  the  dis- 
ciples tell  him  that  all  men  were  seeking  for 
him,  and  the  people  when  they  came  up  en- 
treat him  that  he  should  not  depart  from  them,* 
Jesus  says  to  the  one,  "  Let  us  go  into  the  next 
town,  that  I  may  preach  there  also ; "  and  to  the 
other,  "  I  must  preach  the  kingdom  of  God  to 

*  Compare  Mark  i.  36,  38,  and  Luke  iv.  42,  43. 


394  First  Sabbath  m  Capernaum, 

other  cities  also,  for  therefor  am  I  sent."  He 
did  uot,  indeed,  forsake  the  city  that  had 
treated  him  so  differently  from  his  own  Nazar- 
eth. He  chose  it  as  the  place  of  his  most  fre- 
quent residence,  the  centre  of  his  manifold 
labors,  the  scene  of  many  of  his  most  memorable 
discourses  and  miracles.  But  now  he  must  not 
rest  on  the  favor  which  the  healings  of  this 
wonderful  day  have  won  for  him.  And  for  a 
time  he  left  Capernaum,  and  "went  about  all 
Galilee,  teaching  in  their  synagogues,  and 
preaching  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  and  heal- 
ing all  manner  of  sickness,  and  all  manner  of 
disease,  among  the  people.  And  his  fame  went 
throughout  all  Syria  :  and  they  brought  unto 
him  all  sick  people  that  were  taken  with  divers 
diseases  and  torments,  and  those  which  were 
possessed  with  devils,  and  those  which  were 
lunatic,  and  those  that  had  the  palsy  ;  and  he 
healed  them.  And  there  followed  him  great 
multitudes  of  people  from  Galilee,  and  from 
Decapolis,  and  from  Jerusalem,  and  from 
Judea,  and  from  beyond  Jordan."* 

We  read  of  nine  departures   from  and  re- 
turns to  Capernaum  in  the  course  of  the  eight- 

*  Matt.  iv.  23-25. 


And  FmsT  Cmcurr  of  Gmjlee.         395 

een  months  of  our  Lord's  Galilean  ministry  ; 
of  three  extensive  tours  through  all  the  towns 
and  villages  of  the  district  as  the  one  now  de- 
scribed ;  and  of  five  or  six  more  limited  ones. 
Had  the  three  EvangeUsts  not  been  so  sparing 
in  their  notices  of  time  and  place  ;  had  they 
not  often  shown  such  enthe  disregard  to  the 
mere  order  of  time,  in  order  to  bring  together 
incidents  or  discourses  which  were  alike  in 
character  ;  could  we  have  traced,  as  we  cannot 
do,  the  footsteps  of  our  Saviour  from  place  to 
place,  from  month  to  month,  as  he  set  forth  on 
these  missionary  rounds  through  Galilee,  made, 
let  us  remember,  all  on  foot,  we  should  have 
had  a  year  and  a  half  before  us  of  varied  and 
almost  unceasing  toil,  the  crowded  activities  of 
which  would  have  filled  us  with  wonder.  As 
it  is,  a  general  conception  of  how  these  months 
were  spent  is  all  that  we  can  reach.  To  give 
distinctness  to  that  conception,  let  us  remem- 
ber what,  in  extent  of  surface  and  in  the  char- 
acter and  numbers  of  its  population,  that  dis- 
trict of  country  was  to  which  these  pedestrian 
journeys  of  our  Saviour  were  confined. 

Galilee,  the  most  northern  of  the  three  divi- 
sions of  Palestine,  is  between  fifty  and  sixty 
miles  in  length,  and  from  thirty  to  forty   in 


396  First  Sabbath  m  Capeenaum, 

breadth.  A  three-days'  easy  walk  would  take 
you  from  Naiii,  on  the  south,  to  Caesarea  Phi- 
lippi  m  the  north, — which  seem  to  have  been 
the  limits  in  these  directions  of  our  Saviour's 
circuits.  Less  than  two  days'  travel  will  carry 
you  from  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  to  the 
coasts  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  Galilee  presented 
thus  an  area  somewhat  larger  than  Lancashire, 
and  somewhat  smaller  than  Yorkshire.  So  far, 
therefore,  as  the  mere  distances  were  concerned, 
it  would  not  take  long — not  more  than  a  week 
or  two — to  travel  round  and  through  it.  But 
then,  in  the  Saviour's  days,  it  was  more  densely 
populated  than  either  of  the  English  counties 
I  have  named.  Josephus,  who  knew  it  well, 
speaks  of  204  towns  and  villages,  the  smallest 
of  them  containing  above  15,000  inhabitants. 
Making  an  allowance  for  exaggeration,  the 
population  of  the  province  must  have  been 
about  three  millions, — as  crowded  a  population 
as  any  manufacturing  district  in  any  of  the 
western  kingdoms  of  Europe  now  presents. 
And  this  population  was  of  a  very  mixed  char- 
acter. If  the  majority  were  of  Jewish  descent, 
there  were  so  many  Phoenicians,  Syrians 
Arabs,  Greeks,  and  others  mingled  with  them, 
that  we  may  be  almost  certain  that  Jesus  never 


And  Fiest  Circuit  of  Galilee.  397 

addressed  any  large  assembly  in  which  there 
were  not  Gentiles  as  well  as  Jews.     There  can- 
not be  a  greater  mistake  than  to  imagine  that, 
in  selecting  Capernaum,  on  the  shores  of  the 
Lake  of  Gennesaret,  as  his  head-quarters,  and 
Gahlee  as  his  chosen  field  of  labor,  Jesus  was 
retiring  from  the  populous  Judea  to  a  remote 
and  unfrequented  region.     In  those  days  there 
was  much  more  life  and  bustle  in  Galilee  than 
in    Judea.     So  far  as  both  the  numbers  and 
character  of  its  population  were  concerned,  it 
was  a  much  better,  more  hopeful  theatre  for 
such  evangelistic  labors  as  those  of  Jesus.     The 
people,  though  no  less  national  in  their  spirit, 
were   much   less    infected    with    ecclesiastical 
prejudice.     The  seed  had  thus  a  better  soil  to 
fall   upon.     Though   a   Roman  governor   was 
placed  over  them,  the  Scribes   and   Pharisees 
had  great  power  in  Jerusalem,  as  they  proved 
in   effecting  the  crucifixion.     Herod  Antipas, 
who  ruled  over  Galilee,  had  none  of  the  jeal- 
ousies of  the  Jewish  Sanhedrim  ;  and,  in  point 
of  fact,  does  not  appear  till  the  last  to  have 
taken  much  interest  in,  or  in  any  way  to  have 
interfered  with  the  proceedings  of  Jesus.     So 
long  as  he  confined  himself  to  the  work  of  a 
religious  teacher,  Herod  had  no  desire  to  med- 


398  FiEST  Sabbath  in  Capeknaum, 

die  with  his  doings  ;  and  even  if  he  had,  Jesm 
had  but  to  cross  the  Lake  of  GaUlee  to  put 
himself  beyond  his  power,  by  placing  himself 
under  the  protection  of  Philip,  the  gentlest  and 
most  humane  of  the  Herods. 

Well  adapted  every  way  as  Galilee  was  for 
our  Lord's  peculiar  work, — the  laying  of  the 
first  foundations  of  the  Christian  faith,  a  faith 
which  was  to  spread  over  the  whole  earth, — 
Capernaum  ^as  equally  fitted  to  be  the  centre 
whence  his  labors  were  to  radiate.  Looked  at, 
as  you  find  it  marked  upon  the  map  of  Galilee, 
it  does  not  occupy  anything  like  a  central  posi- 
tion. But  looked  at  in  relation  to  the  popula- 
tion and  to  the  means  of  transit,  a  better 
centre  could  not  have  been  selected.  Wher- 
ever its  site  was,  it  lay  on  the  northwestern 
shore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  close  upon,  if  not 
within,  the  plain  of  Gennesaret.*  This  plain, — 
three  miles  long,  and  two  miles  broad, — was 
then  dotted  with  villages,  teeming  with  popula- 
tion, and  of  the  most  exuberant  fertility.  "  One 
may  call  the  place,"  says  the  Jewish  historian, 
"the  ambition  of  nature,  where  it  forces  those 

•  After  visiting  the  ruins  at  Khan  Mineyeh  and  Tell  Hum,  the 
writer  had  no  hesitation  in  deciding  in  favor  of  the  latter  as  more 
likely  to  have  been  the  site  of  Capernaum. 


And  FmsT  CnictriT  of  Galilee.  399 

plants  that  are  naturally  enemies  to  one  an^ 
other,  to  agree  together  ;  it  is  a  happy  conten- 
tion of  the  seasons,  as  if  every  one  of  them  laid 
claim  to  this  country."  While  all  round  its 
shores  the  Sea  of  Galilee  saw  towns  and  vil- 
lages thronged  with  an  agricultural  and  manu- 
facturing population,  itself  teemed  with  a  kind 
of  wealth  that  gave  large  occupation  to  the 
fishermen.  How  numerous  the  boats  were  that 
once  skimmed  its  surface,  and  how  large  the 
numbers  employed  as  fishermen,  may  be  gath- 
ered from  the  fact,  that  in  the  wars  with  the 
Romans,  two  hundred  small  vessels  were  once 
collected  for  the  only  naval  action  in  which  the 
Jews  ever  engaged.  Kemembering  that  the 
Lake  is  only  thirteen  miles  long  and  five  or  six 
miles  broad,  it  is  not  too  much,  perhaps,  to  say 
that  never  did  so  small  a  sheet  of  water  see  so 
many  keels  cutting  its  surface,  or  so  many  hu- 
man habitations  circling  round  and  shadowing 
its  waves,  as  did  the  Sea  of  Galilee  in  the  days 
of  Jesus  Christ. 

Now  all  is  silent  there  ;  lonely  and  mobt 
desolate.  Till  last  year  but  a  single  boat 
floated  upon  its  waters.  On  its  shores,  Tiberias 
in  ruins,  and  Magdala  composed  of  a  few 
wretched   hovels,  are    all   that   remain.     You 


400  FiEST  Sabbath  in  Capeknatjm. 

may  ride  round  and  round  the  empty  beach, 
and,  these  excepted,  never  meet  a  human  be- 
mg,  nor  pass  a  human  habitation.  Capernaum, 
Chorazin,  Bethsaida  are  gone.  Here  and  there 
you  stumble  over  ruins,  but  none  can  tell  you 
exactly  what  they  were.  They  knew  not, 
those  cities  of  the  Lake,  the  day  of  their  visita- 
tion ;  their  names  and  their  memory  have  per- 
ished. 


THE  END. 


THE 


Ministry  in  Galilee 


CONTENTS. 


I. — ^The  Two  Healings — The  Leper  and  the  Para- 
lytic,         1 

IL— The  Charge  of  Sabbath-breaking 21 

UL— The  Calling  to  the  Apostolate  of  St,  Peter,  St. 
Andrew,  St.  James,  St.  John,  and  St.  Mat- 
thew,      43 

rV. — The  Sermon  on  the  Mount 6-1 

V. — ^The  Raising  of  the  "Widow's  Son  and  the  Ruler's 

Daughter, 84 

VI. — The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist — the  Great  Invita- 
tion,    104 

VII. — The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner, 133 

Vm.— The  Collision  with  the  Pharisees— The  first  Par- 
ables—The StilHng  of  the  Tempest— The  De- 
moniac of  Gadara 151 

IX.— The  Mission  of  the  Twelve, 192 

X- — The  Feeding  of  the  Five  Thousand,  and  the 

Walking  upon  the  Water, 213 


vi  Contents. 

Paoh 

XL — The  Discourse  in  the  Synagogue  of  Capernaum,  232 

XXE. — Pharisaic  Traditions — The  Syro-Phcenician  Wo- 
man,    259 

Xin.— The  Circuit  through  Decapolis, 278 

XIV. — The  Apostolic  Confession  at  Cjesarea-Philippi, . .  295 

XV.— The  Rebuke  of  Saint  Peter 314 

XVI.  —The  Transfiguration, 335 

Note, 354 


THE  MINISTRY  IN  GALILEE. 


I 


I. 


THE   TWO   HEALINGS — THE   LEPER   AND   THE 
PARALYTIC* 

N  describing  our  Lord's  first  circuit  through 
Galilee,  the  Evangelist  tells  us  that  "  they 
brought  unto  him  all  sick  people  that  were 
taken  with  divers  diseases  and  torments,  and 
those  which  were  possessed  with  devils,  and 
those  which  were  lunatic,  and  those  that  had 
the  palsy  ;  and  he  healed  them."t  How  many 
and  how  varied  were  the  cures  effected  within 
the  course  of  this  first  itineracy  of  our  Lord 
can  only  be  conceived  by  remembering  how 
numerous  were  the  towns  and  villages  through 
which  he  passed,  and  how  large  the  population 

•  Matt.  viii.  2^  ;  Mark  i.  40-45,  ii  1-12  ;  Luke  v.  12-26. 

♦  Matt  iv.  24. 


2  The  Two  Healings. 

with  wiiich,  one  way  or  other,  He  was  brought 
into  contact.*  Remembering  this,  we  may 
beheve  that  within  a  week  or  two  after  his 
first  departure  from  Capernaum  more  heahngs 
were  effected  than  the  whole  put  together,  of 
which  any  specific  record  has  been  preserved 
in  the  Four  Gospels. 

There  was  one  form  of  disease,  however, 
which  is  not  noticed  in  St.  Matthew's  compen- 
dious description — a  disease  peculiar  enough  in 
its  own  character,  but  to  which  an  additional 
peculiarity  attached  from  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  dealt  with  by  the  Mosaic  law.  However 
infectious,  however  deadly,  however  incurable, 
no  disease  but  one  was  held  to  render  its  vic- 
tim ceremonially  unclean.  Such  uncleanness 
was  stamped  by  the  law  upon  the  leper  alone. 
This  strange,  creeping,  spreading,  loathsome, 
fatal  disease  appears  to  have  been  selected  as 
the  one  form  of  bodily  affliction  to  stand,  in  the 
legal  impurity  attached  to  it,  and  in  the  penal- 
ties visited  on  that  impurity,  as  a  type  of  the 
deep,  inward,  pervading,  corrupting,  destroy- 
ing malady  of  sin. 

Among  the  Jews  the  leper  was  excommuni- 
cated.    Cut  off  from  the  congregation  of  the 

*  Earlier  Years,  p.  3»G. 


The  Lepeb  and  the  Pakalytic.  3 

people,  he  had  to  Uve  apart,  enjoying  only 
Bucli  society  as  those  afflicted  with  the  same 
disease  could  offer.  He  had  to  bear  upon  his 
person  the  emblems  of  sorrow  and  of  death  ; 
had  to  wear  the  rent  garments  which  those 
wore  who  were  weeping  for  the  dead ;  to  shave 
his  head  and  keep  it  bare  as  those  must  do 
who  had  touched  the  dead — himself  the  living 
dead,  for  whom  those  emblems  of  mourning 
needed  to  be  assumed.  His  face  half  covered, 
he  had  to  go  about  crying,  "  Unclean,  unclean," 
to  warn  all  others  off,  lest  they  should  come 
too  near  to  him. 

From  what  we  know  of  the  prevalence  of 
this  disease,  it  may  be  believed  that  there  were 
many  lepers  in  Galilee  when  our  Lord  made 
his  first  journey  through  it — gathered  here  and 
there  into  small  and  miserable  communities. 
Even  among  these  the  tidings  of  the  wonderful 
euros  that  were  being  effected  would  circulate, 
for  the  segregation  was  not  so  complete  as  to 
prevent  all  intercourse  ;  and  when  these  poor 
exiles  from  their  fellows  heard  of  many  being 
healed  whose  complaints  were  as  much  beyond 
all  human  remedy  as  theirs,  the  hope  might 
spring  up  in  their  hearts  that  the  Great  Healer's 
powers    extended    even    to   their   case.     But 


4  The  Two  Healings. 

which  of  them  had  faith  enough  to  make  the 
trial — to  break  through  the  legal  fences  im- 
posed, and  go  into  any  of  the  cities  in  which 
Jesus  was,  and  throw  himself  upon  his  sym- 
pathy for  succor?  One  such  there  was — the 
first  of  those  so  afflicted  who  ventured  to  ap- 
proach the  Lord  ;  and  his  case  on  that  account 
was  selected  for  special  record  by  all  the  three 
Evangelists.  He  came  to  Jesus  "when  he  was 
in  a  certain  city."*  He  had  never  seen  the 
Lord  before,  or  seen  him  only  at  a  distance, 
among  a  crowd.  He  could  have  known  or 
heard  but  little  more  about  him  than  what  the 
voice  of  rumor  had  proclaimed.  Yet  so  soon 
as  he  recognizes  him,  see  with  what  reverence 
he  kneels  and  worships  and  falls  on  his  face  be- 
fore him,f  and  hear  how  he  salutes  and  pleads, 
"  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean." 
Perhaps  Jesus  had  never  seen  a  man  prostrate 
himself  in  his  presence  as  this  man  did.  Cer- 
tainly, Jesus  was  never  before  addressed  in 
words  so  few  and  simple,  yet  so  full  of  rever- 
ence, earnestness,  faith,  submission.     He  called 


*  Had  the  name  of  that  city  been  given,  it  might  have  helped  to 
trace  the  course  that  Jesus  was  taking,  but  here,  as  in  many 
other  instances,  the  means  of  identification  are  denied. 

+  Luke  V.  12. 


The  LsrER  and  the  Pakalytic.  5 

Jesus  Lord.     Was  this  the  first  time  that  Jesus 
had  been  so  addressed  ?     Sir,  Rabbi,  Master— 
these  were  the  terms  in  which   Andrew,  and 
Natlianael,  and  Nicodemus,  and  the  woman  of 
Samaria,  and  the  nobleman  of  Capernaum,  had 
addressed  him.     None  of  them  had  spoken  to 
him  as  this  leper  did.     If,  indeed,  the  miracu- 
lous  draught   of  fishes   by  which   Peter   had 
been  finally  summoned  away  from  his  old  occu- 
pation had  already  occurred,  then  it  would  be 
from  his  lips  that  this  title  was  first  heard  com- 
ing, when  he  fell  down  at  Jesus'  feet  exclaim- 
ing, "  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man, 
0    Lord."     That,  however,  is  uncertain;   but 
though  it  were  true,  how  much  had  Simon  to 
elevate  his  conception  of  Christ's  character, — 
how  little  this  leper!     One   wonders,   indeed, 
how  far   he  had  got  in  his  idea  of  who  this 
Jesus — this  healer  of  diseases — was.     All  that 
we  can  know  is  that  he  chose  the  highest  title 
that   he   knew   of,  and   bestowed  it   on   him. 
"  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst."     No  hesita- 
tion as  to  the  power  ;  no  presumption  or  dicta- 
tion as  to  the  will.     Upon  that  free  will,  upon 
that  almighty  power,  he  casts  himself.     "  Lord, 
if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean."     Jesus 
instantly  went  forward — went  close  to  hmi — 


6  The  Two  Healings. 

put  forth  his  hand  and  touched  hnn.  His  dis- 
ciples hold  back  ;  a  strange  shuddering  sensa- 
tion pusses  through  the  hearts  of  the  onlookers, 
for,  by  the  law  of  Moses,  it  was  forbidden  to 
touch  a  leper.  He  who  touched  a  leper  him- 
self became  unclean.  Yet  at  once,  without 
hesitation  at  the  time — without  acting  after- 
wards as  if  he  had  contracted  any  defilement 
or  required  any  purification — Jesus  lays  his 
hand  upon  one  who  was  "full  of  leprosy,"  and  he 
says  to  him,  "I  will,  be  thou  clean."  We  lose 
a  little  of  the  power  and  majesty  of  our  Saviour's 
translation.  Two  words  were  spoken,  [QeXgDj 
Ka^^apiO^-rjTt,)  the  answer,  the  echo  to  the 
prayer ;  two  of  the  very  words  the  man  had  used 
taken  up  and  employed  by  Jesus  m  framing  his 
prompt  and  gracious  reply.  No  petition  that 
w.as  ever  presented  to  Jesus  met  with  a  quicker, 
more  complete,  more  satisfactory  response.  If 
our  Lord's  conduct  in  this  instance  was  regulat- 
ed by  the  principle  which  we  know  so  often 
guided  it  in  the  treatment  he  gave  to  those 
who  came  to  him  to  be  cured,  great  must  have 
been  the  faith  which  was  met  in  such  a  way. 
The  readiness  which  Jesus  had  displayed  to 
exert  his  power  may  partly  have  been  due  to 
this  being  the  first  case  of  a  leper's  application 


The  Leper  and  the  PABALina  7 

to  him,  and  to  his  desire  to  show  that  no  legal 
barrier  would  be  allowed  by  him  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  his  stretching  forth  his  hand  to  heal 
all  that  were  diseased.  Yet  the  manner  and 
the  speech  of  the  leper  himself  attest  that  he 
approached  with  no  ordinary  reverence,  and 
petitioned  with  no  ordinary  faith.  And,  ac- 
cording to  his  faith,  it  was  done  unto  him  im- 
mediately. As  soon  as  the  words  "  I  will,  be 
thou  clean,"  had  come  from  the  Saviour's  lips, 
"the  leprosy  departed  from  him,  and  he  was 
cleansed." 

Did  any  further  colloquy  take  place  between 
the  healed  and  the  Healer  ?  When,  quick  as 
lightning,  through  the  frame  the  sensation 
passed  of  an  entirely  recovered  health — when 
he  stood  up  before  the  Lord,  not  a  sign  or 
symptom  of  the  banished  leprosy  on  his  person- — 
did  no  thanks  burst  from  his  grateful  lips  ?  or 
did  our  Lord  say  nothing  to  him  about  another 
healing  which  he  was  both  willing  and  able  to 
effect?  We  are  not  to  infer  that  nothing  of 
the  kind  occurred  because  nothing  is  recorded. 
The  Evangelists  have  preserved  alone  the  fact 
that,  whatever  words  may  have  passed  between 
them,  Jesus  was  in  haste  to  send  the  leper 
away,  and  in  doing  so   gave  him  strict  com- 


8  The  Two  Healings. 

mand  to  tell  no  man,  but  to  go  instantly  and 
show  himself  to  the  priest,  and  offer  the  gifts, 
that  Moses  commanded — the  live  birds  and  the 
cedar  wood,  and  the  scarlet  and  hyssop, — the 
means  and  instruments  by  which  the  purifica- 
tion of  one  declared  free  of  leprosy  was  to  be 
effected,  and,  reheved  from  the  ban  that  had 
been  laid  upon  hhn,  he  was  to  be  reinstated  in 
the  possession  of  all  the  common  privileges  of 
society  and  citizenship.  It  is  quite  possible 
that,  knowing  the  opposition  which  was  already 
kindhug  against  him,  of  which  we  shall  pres- 
ently see  traces,  Jesus  may  have  desired  that, 
without  throwing  out  any  hint  of  what  had  oc- 
curred which  might  precede  him  by  the  way 
and  prejudice  the  judge,  this  man  should  repair 
as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  priest  upon  whom 
it  devolved  judicially  to  declare  that  he,  so  re- 
cently a  man  full  of  leprosy,  was  now  entirely 
free  of  the  complaint.  It  would  be  a  testimony 
they  could  not  well  gainsay,  if  the  f\xct  of  the 
departure  of  the  leprosy  were  attested  by  the 
acceptance  of  the  officer's  gifts  and  his  re-ad- 
mission into  the  congregation  of  Israel.  To 
prevent  any  possibility  of  this  ratification  of 
the  reality  of  the  cure  being  refused,  Jesus 
might  have  enjoined  silence  and  as  speedy  a 


Tke  Leper  and  the  Paealytio.  9 

resort  as  possible  to  the  priest ;  the  silence  in 
such  circumstances  and  with  such  a  view  pre- 
scribed, to  last  only  till  the  desired  end  was 
gained.  It  would  seem,  however,  from  the  re- 
sult, that  a  more  immediate  object  of  the  Sa- 
viour in  laying  this  injunction  upon  the  leper 
was  to  prevent  the  influx  of  a  still  greater 
crowd  than  that  which  was  already  oppressing 
him,  and  thus  the  hampering  of  his  movements, 
and  the  absorption  of  too  much  of-  his  time  in 
the  mere  work  of  healing.  For  straightway, 
though  charged  to  keep  silence,  the  man  when 
he  went  from  Jesus  could  not  restrain  himself, 
but  "began  to  pubhsh  it  much,  and  to  blaze 
abroad  the  matter,  insomuch  that  great  multi- 
tudes came  together  to  be  healed  of  their  in- 
firmities, and  Jesus  could  no  more  openly  enter 
into  the  city,  but  was  without  in  desert  places, 
and  withdrew  himself  into  the  wilderness,  and 
prayed."* 

Again,  a  second  time,  as  it  was  after  that 
busy  Sabbath  in  Capernaum,  and  before  his 
first  journey  through  Galilee,  so  now,  at  the 
close  of  this  circuit  and  under  the  pressure  of 
the   multitude   that   beset   his   path,  Jesus   is 

*  Mark  i.  45  ;  Luke  v.  15,  16. 


10  The  Two  Healings. 

driven  forth  from  the  city's  crowded  haunts  to 
seek  the  soHtary  place,  where,  for  some  hours 
at  least,  he  may  enjoy  unbroken  communion 
with  Heaven.  To  watch  how  and  when  it  \\  as 
that  he  took  refuge  thus  in  prayer,  minghng 
devotion  with  activity,  the  days  of  bustle  with 
the  hours  of  quiet,  intercourse  with  man  in  fel- 
lowship with  God,  let  this  be  one  of  our  cher- 
ished employments,  following  the  earthly  foot- 
steps of  our  Lord :  for  nothing  is  more  fitted  to 
impress  upon  us  the  lesson, ^ — how  needful,  how 
serviceable  it  is,  if  we  would  walk  and  work 
rightly  among  or  for  others  around  us,  that  we 
be  often  alone  with  our  Father  which  is  in 
heaven.  A  life  all  action  will  be  as  bad  for 
our  own  soul  as  a  life  all  prayer  would  be  prof- 
itless for  others.  It  is  the  right  and  happy 
blendhig,  each  in  its  due  proportion,  of  stillness 
and  of  action,  of  work  and  prayer,  which  pro- 
motes true  spiritual  health  and  growth  ;  and 
the  weaker  we  are — the  more  easily  at  once 
distracted  and  aljsorbed  by  much  bustling  ac- 
tivity— so  much  the  more  of  reflection,  retire- 
ment, and  devotion  is  needed  to  temper  our 
spirit  aright,  and  to  keep  it  in  harmony  with 
that  of  our  Lord  and  Master. 

It  is  as  impossible  to  tell  how  long  a  time  it 


The  Leper  and  the  Paealytio.  11 

took  to  make  the  first  round  of  the  Gahlean 
towns  and  villages,  as  it  is  to  define  the  line  or 
circle  along  which  Jesus  moved.  One  high  au- 
thority* concludes  that  it  must  have  occupied 
between  two  and  three  months:  another, f  that 
it  did  not  occupy  more  than  four  or  five  days. 
A  period  of  intermediate  length  would  proba- 
bly be  nearer  the  truth  than  either.  On  com- 
pleting the  circuit  he  .eturned  to  Capernaum, 
to  take  up  his  abode  again  in  Peter's  house. 
No  rest  was  given  him.  The  news  of  his  return 
passed  rapidly  through  the  town,  and  straight- 
way so  many  were  gathered  together  "that 
there  was  no  room  to  receive  them,  no,  not  so 
much  as  about  the  door."  We  must  remember 
here,  in  order  to  understand  what  followed,  the 
form  of  a  Jewish  house,  and  the  materials  of 
which  its  roof  was  ordinarily  composed.  There 
is  not  now,  and  there  never  seems  to  have  been, 
much  variety  in  the  shape  of  a  Syrian  dwelling- 
house.  Externally  they  all  present  the  one  dull 
uniform  appearance  of  so  many  cubes  or 
squares,  seldom  more  than  one  story  high — 
the  outer  walls  showing  no  windows,  nor  any 
opening  on  the  level  of  the  ground  except  the 

*  GreswelL  +  Ellicott 


12  The  Two  Healings. 

door.  On  entering  you  pass  through  a  lesser 
court,  into  which  alone  strangers  are  admitted, 
and  then  into  the  inner  uncovered  square  into 
which  the  different  apartments  of  the  building 
open.  In  one  corner,  either  of  the  outer  or  in- 
ner court — generally  in  the  latter — there  is  a 
flight  of  steps  conducting  to  the  roof,  a  place  of 
frequent  resort  at  all  times,  and  in  the  hotter 
mouths  of  summer  turned  into  the  sleeping- 
place  of  the  household.  The  larger  houses,  in 
which  the  wealthier  inhabitants  reside,  are  all 
separate  from  one  another.  The  lesser  are  often 
without  any  open  court-yard,  and  built  close  to- 
gether, so  that  you  could  pass  readily  from  roof 
to  roof  These  roofs,  always  flat,  are  formed  of 
bricks  or  tiles,  or  more  generally  of  a  compost 
of  mud  and  straw,  which  a  day's  such  rain  as 
we  often  have  would  entirely  demolish.  What- 
ever the  size  of  the  houses  be,  or  however  they 
be  situated  relatively  to  each  other,  in  one  way 
or  other,  either  by  a  staircase  within  the  court — 
open,  of  course,  only  to  the  family  to  which  the 
house  belongs — or  by  a  flight  of  steps  without- 
which,  when  the  houses  are  contiguous,  may 
serve  many  households  as  a  common  means  of 
access — the  roof  of  each  dwelling  is  easily 
reached.     We  do  not  need  to  settle  what  size 


The  Leper  and  the  Paralytio.  13 

the  dwelling  was  in  Capernaum  where  Jesus 
took  up  his  abode ;  we  have  only  to  imagine  it 
to  be  of  the  usual  and  invariable  Syrian  type, 
to  render  the  narrative  intelligible. 

A  crowd  assembles  and  fills  the  room  of  the 
house  in  which  Jesus  sits  and  teaches.     At  first 
this  crowd  is  not  so  dense  but  that  a  single  in- 
dividual may  pass  through  it,  and  in  this  way 
one    and    another   of  the    diseased   did  press 
through,  and  the  power  of  the  Lord  was  there 
to  heal  them.     But  the  crowd  grew  and  thick- 
ened, it  overflowed  the  room,  it  filled  the  street 
before  the  door,  till  every  spot  within  reach  of 
Christ's  voice  was  occupied,  and  stiU  there  were 
new  comers  pressing  in  to  try  and  catch  a  word ; 
and  to  the  work  of  healing  within  an  effectual 
stop  seems  now  to  have  been  put.     At  this  stage 
four  men  appear,  bearing  a  sick  man  on  a  litter. 
They  reach  the  crowd,  they  try  to  enter,  they 
entreat,  they  expostulate  ;  the  thing  is  hopeless, 
that  four  men  with  such  a  burden  ever  shall  get 
through.     Is  the  project  to  be  given  up,  the 
great  chance  lost?       The  bearers  consult  the 
man  they  carry.     He  is  paralytic,  cannot  move 
a  limb,  can  do  nothing  for  himself.     But  he  is 
in  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  the  spirit  is 
entire  within.    It  was  his  eagerness  to  be  healed, 


14  The  Two  Healings. 

still  more  than  their  readiness  to  help  him,  that 
had  led  these  four  men  to  lift  him  and  carry 
him  so  far,  and  they  are  ready  still  to  do  any- 
thing— anything  they  can.  Some  one  suggests 
— who  so  likely  as  the  paralytic  himself? — that 
they  might  get  upon  the  roof,  lift  up  so  much 
of  it  as  was  required,  and  let  down  before  Christ 
the  bed  on  which  the  patient  lay ;  a  singular,  an 
extreme  step  to  take,  yet  one  to  which  men  who 
were  resolved  to  do  anything  rather  than  lose  the 
opportunity,  might  not  refuse  to  have  recourse. 
They  all  were  strong  in  the  belief  that  if 
only  they  could  get  at  Jesus  the  cure  would 
be  effected,  but  the  paralytic  himself  had  an 
eager  craving  to  get  into  the  Saviour's  pres- 
ence, deeper  than  that  springing  from  the  de- 
sire to  have  his  bodily  ailment  removed.  The 
stroke  that  had  taken  the  strength  out  his 
body  had  quickened  conscience.  He  had  re- 
cognized it  as  coming  from  the  hand  of  God — • 
it  had  awakened  within  him  a  sense  of  his 
great  and  manifold  bygone  transgressions. 
His  sins  had  taken  hold  of  him,  and  the  bur- 
den was  too  heavy  for  him  to  bear.  He  hears 
of  Jesus  that  he  had  announced  himself  as  the 
healer  of  the  broken-hearted ;  that  there  is  a 
Gospel,  good  tidings  that  he  proclaims  to  the 


The  Leper  and  the  PAE.\LYnc.  15 

poor  in  spirit.  If  ever  a  heart  needed  healing, 
a  spirit  needed  comforting,  it  is  his.  And 
now,  shall  h«  be  so  near  to  him  whom  he  has 
been  so  anxious  to  see,  and  yet  to  have  to  go 
away  disappointed,  unrelieved  ?  He  either 
himself  suggests,  or,  when  suggested,  he  warm- 
ly approves,  the  project  of  trying  to  let  him 
down  through  the  roof.  The  bearers  second 
his  desires.  They  make  the  effort — they  suc- 
ceed ;  noiselessly  they  lift  the  tiles — gently 
they  let  down  the  bed,  and  before  Jesus,  as  he 
is  speaking,  the  bed  and  its  burden  lie. 

Bat  now,  before  noticing  how  Jesus  met  this 
interruption  of  his  discourse,  and  dealt  with 
the  man  who  was  so  curiously  obtruded  on  his 
notice,  let  us  look  around  a  moment  on  the 
strangely  constituted  audience  which  Christ  at 
this  moment  is  addressing.  Close  beside  him 
are  his  disciples — around  him  are  many  simple- 
minded,  simple-hearted  men,  drinking  in  with 
wonder  words  they  scarce  half  understand. 
But  they  are  not  all  friendly  listeners  who  are 
there,  for  there  are  "  Pharisees  and  doctors 
of  the  law  sitting  by,"  some  from  Galilee,  some 
from  Judea,  some  even  from  Jerusalem.  The 
last — what  has  brought  them  here  ?  They 
come  as  spies — they  come  as  emissaries  from 


16  The  Two  Healings. 

the  men  who  reproved  Jesus  at  Jerusalem  for 
his  heahng  of  another  paralytic  at  the  pool  of 
Bethesda,  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  who 
sought  to  slay  him,  "  because  he  had  not  only 
broken  the  Sabbath,  but  said  also  that  God 
was  his  Father,  making  himself  equal  with 
God."  Already  these  Pharisees  counted  Jesus 
a  blasphemer,  whose  life  they  were  seeking 
but  the  fit  ground  and  occasion  to  cut  off. 
And  here  are  some  of  their  number  wearing 
the  mask,  waiting  and  watching,  little  knowmg 
all  the  while  that  an  eye  is  on  them  which 
follows  every  turn  of  their  thoughts,  and  sees 
into  all  the  secret  places  of  their  hearts.  It  is 
as  one  who  thus  thoroughly  knew  them,  and 
would  with  his  own  hand  throw  a  fresh  stone 
of  stumbling  before  their  feet — as  one  who 
thoroughly  knew  also  the  poor,  helpless,  pal- 
sied penitent,  who  lies  on  the  bed  before  him, 
that  Jesus  now  speaks  and  acts.  Meeting 
those  pleading  eyes  that  are  fixed  so  impor- 
tunately upon  him,  without  making  any  inqui- 
ries or  waiting  to  have  any  petition  presented, 
"  Son,"  he  says  to  the  sick  of  the  palsy,  "  be  of 
good  cheer,  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee."  He 
w^ould  not  have  addressed  him  thus  had  he  not 
known  how  greatly  he  needed  to  be  cheered, 


The  Leper  and  the  Paralitic.  17 

how  gladly  he  would  welcome  the  pardon,  in 
what  a  suitable  condition  he  was  to  have  that 
pardon  bestowed. 

Let  us  believe  then  that,  spoken  with  nicest 
adaptation  to  the  man's  state  and  wants,  Christ's 
words  were  with  power — that  as  quickly  and 
as  thoroughly  as  the  words,  "  I  will,  be  thou 
clean,"  banished  the  leprosy  from  the  one  man's 
body,  as  quickly  and  as  thoroughly  these  words 
banished  the  gloom  and  despondency  from  this 
man's  soul.  Thus  spoken  to  by  one  in  whom 
he  had  full  confidence,  he  was  of  good  cheer, 
and  did  assuredly  believe  that  his  sins  had  been 
forgiven  him.  If  it  was  so — if  his  faith  in  Jesus 
as  his  soul's  deliverer  was  as  simple  and  as 
strong  as,  from  the  way  in  which  Christ  spoke, 
we  presume  it  was — then  too  happy  would  he 
be  at  the  moment  when  the  blessedness  of  him 
whose  sins  are  forgiven,  whose  iniquity  is  cov- 
ered, filled  his  heart,  to  think  of  anything  be- 
side. He  is  silent  at  least,  he  is  satisfied,  he 
makes  no  remonstrance,  he  profiers  no  request. 
There  is  nothing  going  on  within  his  breast  that 
Jesus  needs  to  drag  forth  to  light,  to"  detect 
and  to  rebuke.  Not  so  with  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  upon  whom  those  words  of  Jesus 
have  had  a  quite  starthng  efi'ect.     They,  too, 


18  The  Two  Healings. 

are  silent ;  nor,  beyond  the  glances  of  wonder, 
horror,  hate,  that  they  hastily  and  furtively  ex- 
change, do  they  give  any  outward  sign  of  what 
is  passing  in  their  hearts.  But  Jesus  knows  it 
all.  They  had  been  saying  within  themselves, 
"This  man  blasphemeth  ;"  they  had  been  rea- 
soning in  their  hearts,  to  their  own  entire  satis- 
faction and  to  Christ's  utter  condemnation,  say- 
ing, "  Why  doth  this  man  thus  speak  blasphe- 
mies? Who  can  forgive  sins  but  God  only?" 
Notwithstanding  all  their  self-assurance,  they 
must  have  been  a  little  startled  when,  the 
thoughts  of  their  hearts  revealed,  Jesus  said  to 
them,  "  Why  reason  ye  these  things  in  your 
hearts  ?  Whether  is  it  easier  to  say  to  the  sick 
of  the  palsy,  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;  or  to 
say,  Arise,  and  take  up  thy  bed,  and  walk?" 
He  does  not  ask  which  was  easier,  to  forgive 
sins  or  to  cure  a  palsy,  but  which  was  easier, 
to  say  the  one  or  to  say  the  other,  for  he  knew 
that  they  had  been  secretly  thinking  how  easy 
it  was  for  any  man  to  say  to  another,  Thy  sins 
be  forgiven  thee,  but  how  impossible  it  was  for 
him  to' make  good  such  a  saying,  "But  that 
ye  may  know,"  he  added,  "that  the  Son  of 
Man  hath  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins  (then 
saith  he  to  the  sick  of  the  palsy,)  Arise  and 


The  Lepeb    and  the  Paealytic.  19 

take  up  thy  bed,  and  go  thy  way  into  thine 
house,"  The  man  arose  and  departed  to  his 
own  house — healed  in  body,  healed  in  spirit — 
glorifying  God.  The  people  saw  it,  and  were 
amazed,  and  were  filled  with  awe  ;  and  they 
said  to  one  another,  "  We  never  saw  it  in  this 
fashion — we  have  seen  strange  things  to-day." 
And  "they  glorified  God  which  had  given  such 
power  to  men."  The  Scribes  and  Pharisees 
saw  it,  and  had  palpable  evidence  of  the  super- 
human knowledge  and  superhuman  power  of 
Christ  given  to  them — had  a  miracle  wrought 
before  their  eyes  in  proof  of  Christ's  possession 
of  a  prerogative  which  they  were  right  in  think- 
ing belonged  to  God  only,  but  they  would  not 
let  anything  convince  them  that  the  Son  of  Man 
had  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins  ;  and  it  was 
not  long,  as  we  shall  see,  ere  new  stumbling- 
blocks  were  throwii  in  their  way,  over  which 
they  feU. 

Our  Saviour,  in  bodily  presence,  has  now 
passed  away  from  us.  He  can  touch  us  no  more 
with  his  living  finger  ;  he  banishes  no  more  our 
bodily  diseases  with  a  word  ;  but  the  leprosy  of 
the  heart — the  spreading,  pervading  taints  of 
ungodliness,  selfishness,  malignity,  impurity-— 
these  it  is  his  office  still  to  cure  ;  these  it  is  our 


20  The  Two  Healings. 

duty  still  to  carry  to  him  to  have  removed  ;  and 
if  we  go  ill  the  spirit  of  him  who  said,  Lord,  if 
thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean,  the  cleans- 
ing virtue  will  not  be  withheld. 

The  Son  of  Man  had  power  on  earth  to  for- 
give sins  ;  he  exercised  that  power  ;  he  absolved 
at  once  the  penitent  of  Capernaum  from  all  hia 
sins  ;  he  caused  that  man  to  taste  the  joy  of  an 
immediate,  gracious,  free,  and  full  forgiveness 
What  is  to  hinder  our  receiving  the  same  bene 
fit — enjoying  the  same  blessing  ?  Has  the  Son 
of  Man  lost  any  of  his  power  to  forgive  sins  by 
his  being  no  more  upon  this  earth,  his  having 
passed  into  the  heavens?  Is  pardon  a  boon 
that  he  no  longer  dispenses,  that  he  holds  now 
suspended  over  our  heads — a  thing  to  be  hoped 
for  but  never  to  be  had  ?  No,  let  us  believe 
that  his  mission  on  earth  has  not  so  failed  in  its 
great  object  ;  that  he  is  as  willing  as  he  is  able 
to  say  and  do  for  each  of  us  what  he  said  and 
did  for  the  palsied  man  in  Peter's  house  at  Ca- 
pernaum ;  that  he  waits  but  to  see  us  penitent 
and  broken-hearted,  lookhig  to  and  trusting  in  . 
him,  to  say  in  turn  to  each  of  us,  "  Son — 
Daughter — be  of  good  cheer,  thy  sins  be  for- 
given thee." 


n. 

THE  CHARGE  OF    SABBATH-BREAKING.* 

IT  was  a  common  saying  among  the  Jews, 
that  whoever  did  any  work  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  denied  the  work  of  the  creation.  The  say- 
ing was  grounded  on  the  fact  that  one  principal 
end  of  the  Sabbatic  institute  was,  by  its  con- 
tinued and  faithful  observance,  to  preserve  a 
knowledge  of,  and  a  faith  in,  the  one  Living 
and  True  God  as  the  Creator  of  all  thhigs.  As 
being  a  most  explicit  and  expressive  embodi- 
ment in  outward  act  and  habit  of  the  faith  of 
the  Jewish  people,  that  in  six  days  the  Lord 
made  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  sea  and  all 
that  in  them  is,  it  was  chosen  by  God  as  a  fit 
and  appropriate  sign  of  the  peculiar  relationship 
towards  Him  into  which  that  people  had  been 
brought — the  peculiar  standing  which  among 
other   nations    it  was  to  occupy.     "Six  days 

*  Mark  i.  1-31 ;    John  v.  1-47  ;    Matt.  xii.  1-14  ;    John  ix.  14  ; 
Luke  xiiL  10-17  ;  xiv.  1-6. 


22  The  Charge 

shall  thou  labor,  and  do  all  thy  work  :  but  the 
seventh  day  is  the  Sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy 
God :  in  it  thou  shalt  not  do  any  work,  thou, 
nor  thy  son,  nor  thy  daughter,  nor  thy  man- 
servant, nor  thy  maid-servant,  nor  the  stranger 
that  is  within  thy  gates  ;  that  thy  man-servant 
and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest  as  well  as  thou. 
And  remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the 
land  of  Egypt,  and  that  the  Lord  thy  God 
brought  thee  out  thence  through  a  mighty  hand 
and  by  a  stretched-out  arm :  therefore,  the 
Lord  thy  God  commanded  thee  to  keep  the 
Sabbath  day."*  "Wherefore  the  children  of 
Israel  shall  keep  the  Sabbath,  to  observe  the 
Sabbath  throughout  their  generations,  for  a  per- 
petual covenant.  It  is  a  sign  between  me  and 
the  children  of  Israel  forever." f  "Moreover 
also  I  gave  them  my  Sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  be- 
tween me  and  them,  that  they  might  know  that 
I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them.  Hallow  my 
Sabbaths  ;  that  ye  may  know  that  I  am  the 
Lord  your  God."  J 

There  was  no  rite,  nor  institution,  not  even 
circumcision,  by  which  the  Jews  were  more 
conspicuously  distinguished   from  surrounding 

•Deut.  V.  13-15.     +  Exod.  xxxi.  16,  17.     J  Ezek.  xx.  12,  2a 


On  Sabbath-bbeaking.  23 

nations,  and  marked  ofif  as  the  worshippers  of 
Jehovah,  the  Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Their    Sabbath-keeping  was  a   perpetual    and 
visible  token  of  the  connection  in  which  they 
they  stood  to  God,  and  of  the  great  mission 
which,  under  him,  they  were  set  apart  to  dis- 
charge.    But  how  was  the  Sabbath  to  be  kept 
so  as  to  serve  this  end  ?     Looking  back  here  to 
the  original  statutes,  and  to  the  earher  practice 
of  the  Jewish  people,  you  will  find  that  there 
was  but  one  positive  injunction  given :   the  ces- 
sation from  all  manner  of  work.     The  rest  en- 
joined, however,  could  not  be  the  rest  of  total 
and  absolute  inactivity.     The  work  from  which 
they  were  to  cease  could  not  be  every  doing 
of  the  human   hand.     Obviously   it   was   the 
work  of  men's  ordinary  occupation  or  trades, 
the  work  by  which  the  hours  of  common  labor 
were  filled  by  those  engaged  therein.     There  is, 
indeed,  one  prohibition,  the  only  one,  in  which 
there  is  a  specification  of  the  kind  of  work  to 
be  desisted  from,  which  would  seem  to  point  to 
a  narrower  interpretation  of  the  original  com- 
mand.    When  Moses  had  gathered  all  the  con- 
gregation  of  Israel  together    at  the   base   of 
Sinai,  and  the  people  were  about  to  enter  on 
the  construction  of  the  ark  and  the  tabernacle, 


24  4,  The  Chaege 

knowing  with  what  hearty  enthusiasm  they 
were  inspired,  he  prefaced  his  mstructions  as 
to  the  manner  in  which  they  should  carry  on 
the  work,  by  saying,  "Six  days  shall  work  be 
done,  but  on  the  seventh  day  there  shall  be  to 
you  a  holy  day,  a  Sabbath  of  rest  to  the  Lord  ; 
ye  shall  kindle  no  fire  throughout  your  habita- 
tions on  the  Sabbath  day."  They  did  not 
need  to  be  told  to  kindle  no  fire  for  any  ordin- 
ary culinary  purposes.  A  double  portion  of 
the  manna  fell  upon  the  day  preceding  the 
Sabbath,  and  they  were  to  seethe  and  bake  the 
whole  of  it,  so  that  no  preparation  of  food  on 
the  Sabbath  was  required.  Issued  under  such 
peculiar  circumstances,  it  seems  not  unreasona- 
ble to  believe  that  the  particular  object  of  the 
Mosaic  injunction  was  to  check  the  ardor  of 
those  who  might  otherwise  have  been  tempted 
to  carry  on  the  mouldings  and  the  castings  in 
gold  and  silver  on  the  Sabbath  as  on  other  days  : 
not  that  the  Jews  of  all  after  generations  were 
prohibited  by  Divine  command  from  having  a 
fire  burning  in  their  dwellings,  for  whatever 
purpose  kindled,  on  the  Sabbath  day. 

When  we  turn  from  what  was  prohibited  to 
what  was  enjoined,  we  find  a  blank.  Ove  or 
two  specific  injunctions  were  indeed  laid  upon 


On  Sabbath-bkeaking.  25 

the  priests.  The  daily  sacrifices  were  to  be 
doubled,  and  the  shew-bread  baked  upon  the 
Sabbath  was  to  be  renewed.  That  there  was 
no  Sabbatism  in  the  Temple  became  in  this 
way  a  proverb.  But  for  the  people  at  large 
there  were  no  minute  instructions  as  to  how 
the  day  was  to  be  spent.  It  could  not  have 
been  made  imperative  on  them  to  assemble  for 
pubhc  worship  on  that  day,  for  during  the 
times  of  the  Jewish  theocracy  there  was  no 
place  but  one— the  Temple— for  such  worship, 
and  the  meeting  there  each  seventh  day  was 
impossible.  It  was  not  till  after  the  captivity 
that  synagogues  were  erected  all  over  the  land, 
in  which  weekly  assemblages  for  worship  did 
take  place  ;  but  that  was  done,  not  in  obedi- 
ence to  any  Divine  command.  It  would  seem, 
indeed,  to  have  been  the  practice  of  the  Jews, 
from  the  beginning,  to  gather  round  their  pro- 
phets on  the  Sabbath  days,  and  to  avail  them- 
selves of  such  means  of  reUgious  instruction  as 
they  could  command.  Parents  took  advantage 
of  the  rest  to  teach  the  law  unto  their  children. 
But  there  was  no  peculiar  rehgious  observance 
prescribed.  The  day  was  spent  in  rest,  in 
thankfulness,  in  gladness  ;  spent  to  a  great  ex- 
tent as  the  festival  days  of  other  countries  w^re 


26  The  Chakge 

spent.  Dressed  in  their  best  attn-e,  indulg- 
ing in  better  fare,  it  was  to  feasting  rather 
than  to  fasting  that  the  Sabbath  was  devoted. 
But,  as  the  faith  of  tlie  people  grew  weak,  and 
their  allegiance  to  their  Divine  Sovereign 
faltered,  they  grew  neglectful  of  the  Sabbath, 
and  began  to  profane  the  day  by  breaking  in 
upon  that  rest  from  all  the  ordinary  occupations 
of  life,  which  should  ha\e  been  observed. 
Thus  it  was  that,  among  other  distinctive  marks 
of  their  peculiarity  as  a  consecrated  people,  the 
only  worshippers  of  the  Great  Creator,  this  one 
became  obscured  and  well-nigh  obliterated. 

In  the  latest  years  of  the  Hebrew  common- 
wealth, prophet  after  prophet  was  raised  up  to 
testify  against  those  defections  from  the  faith, 
among  which  that  of  neglecting  and  profaning 
the  Sabbath  occupied  a  conspicuous  place. 
After  the  captivity,  on  the  restoration  of  the 
Jews  to  their  own  land,  the  same  lax  habits 
prevailed.  "In  those  days,"  says  Nehemiah, 
"saw  I  in  Judah  some  treading  wine-presses  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  bringing  in  sheaves,  and  lading 
asses ;  as  also  wine,  grapes,  and  figs,  and  all 
manner  of  burdens,  which  they  brought  hito 
Jerusalem  on  the  Sabbath  day  :  and  I  testified 
against  them  in  the  day  wherein  they  sold  viet- 


On  Sabbath-breaking.  27 

uals."*  Nehemiah  did  more  than  testify.  Alert 
and  decisive  in  all  his  movements,  he  had  the 
gates  of  Jerusalem  shut  when  it  began  to  be 
dark  before  the  Sabbath,  and  kept  them  shut 
till  the  Sabbath  v^ras  over.  It  is  in  the  light  of 
his  sayings  and  doings  that  we  are  to  interpret 
the  utterance  from  the  lips  of  Jeremiah :  "Thus 
saith  the  Lord :  Take  heed  to  yourselves,  and 
bear  no  burden  on  the  Sabbath  day,  nor  bring 
it  in  by  the  gates  of  Jerusalem ;  neither  carry 
forth  a  burden  out  of  your  houses  on  the  Sab- 
bath day,  neither  do  ye  any  work,  but  hallow 
ye  the  Sabbath  day,  as  I  commanded  your 
fathers,  "t 

A  singular  change  came  over  the  spirit  and 
habits  of  the  Jewish  people  after  the  restoration 
from  the  Babylonian  captivity.  Previously,  in 
the  days  of  the  kings  and  prophets,  they  were 
ever  and  anon  showing  a  tendency  to  idolatry  ; 
subsequently  no  such  tendency  appears.  Pre- 
viously they  had  been  neglectful  of  many  of  the 
distinctive  rites  and  ceremonies  of  their  faith  ; 
subsequently  they  became  strict  and  punctilious 
in  their  observance  of  them.  Great  national 
calamities — the  persecution  under  the  successors 

*  Neh.  xiii.  15.  +  Jer.  xvii.  21. 


28  The  Charge 

of  Alexander  the  Great,  the  wars  of  the  Macca-' 
bees,  the  aggression  of  the  Romans,  the  ascent 
into  power  of  the  Idumean  family  of  the  Herods, 
the  estiablishment  of  the  schools  of  the  Rabbis 
— all  conspired  to  intensify  the  national  pride 
and  religious  bigotry  of  the  Jews ;  who,  as  they 
had  nothing  but  the  old  laws  and  traditions  to 
cling  to,  clung  to  them  with  all  the  more  tena- 
cious grasp.  The  sect  of  the  Pharisees  arose, 
and  carried  the  popular  sympathy  along  with 
it.  Everything  regarded  as  purely  and  pecu- 
harly  Judaic  was  exaggerated.  Punctilious  ob- 
servance of  the  old  ritual  was  the  one  great 
merit  compensating  for  all  defects  ;  whilst 
around  the  simpler  statute-law  of  Moses  there 
arose  an  oral  or  traditional  law,  growing  con- 
tinually in  bulk  and  overshadowing  the  primi- 
tive Mosaic  institute.  It  had  been  a  less  evil 
had  the  original  enactments  of  that  institute 
continued  to  be  rightly  and  liberally  inter- 
preted. Instead  of  this,  the  narrowest  and 
most  rigid  interpretation  was  the  only  one  al- 
lowed ;  and  upon  each  statute  as  so  interpreted 
additions  and  explanations  were  heaped,  of  such 
a  character  as  to  turn  more  and  more  the  keep- 
ing of  them  into  a  mere  matter  of  external 
routme  and  outward  performance.     So  fared  it 


On  Sabbath-bkeaking.  29 

with  the  old,  broad  and  benignant  law  as  to 
the  Sabbath.  Its  primary  injunction,  "  Thou 
shalt  do  no  manner  of  work,"  was  falsely  held 
as  aimed  at  all  kinds  of  work  whatever ;  no  less 
than  thirty -nine  kinds  or  classes  of  work  being 
specified  as  involved  in  the  prohibition.  It  was 
ruled  thus  that  grass  should  not  be  trodden  on 
the  Sabbath,  for  the  bruising  of  it  was  a  species 
of  harvest  work  ;  that  shoes  with  nails  should 
not  be  worn,  as  that  was  the  carrying  a  burden. 
To  what  absurd  excesses  such  a  spirit  of  inter- 
.pretation  led  may  be  gathered  from  the  single 
instance  of  its  being  actually  laid  down  in  the 
Mishna  that  a  tailor  must  not  go  out  with  his 
needle  near  dusk  on  the  eve  of  the  Sabbath,  lest 
he  should  forget  and  carry  it  with  him  on  the 
Sabbath.  In  aU  this  there  was  not  only  a  wrong 
rendering  of  the  Mosaic  precept,  but  beyond, 
and  much  worse  than  that,  there  was  the  erec- 
tion of  a  false  standard  of  duty,  a  false  test  of 
piety — the  elevation  of  the  outward,  the  posi- 
tive, the  ceremonial,  over  the  inward,  the 
moral,  the  spiritual;  the  putting  of  the  letter 
that  killeth  above  the  spirit  which  maketh 
alive. 

Now  let  us  see  how,  born  and  brought  up 
among  a  people  filled  with   such  prejudices, 


30  The  Chaegb 

Jesus  regulated  his  conduct.  He  knew  that 
healing  the  diseased  on  the  Sabbath  day  would 
be  regarded  as  a  breach  of  the  Divine  law, 
would  shock  the  Pharisees,  and  run  counter  to 
the  convictions  of  the  great  mass  of  the  com- 
munity. Did  he  abstain  from  effecting  cures 
upon  that  day?  He  might  easily  have  done  so, 
as  no  applications  were  made  to  him.  Much 
as  they  desired  to  have  the  benefit  conferred, 
the  people  shrank  from  bringing  their  diseased 
to  be  cured  on  the  holy  day.  Jesus  had  only 
to  meet  their  prejudices  by  doing  nothing. 
But  he  did  not  choose  to  be  thus  silent  and 
acquiescent.  No  less  than  seven  miracles  are 
recorded  as  wrought  by  him  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  some  of  them  among  the  most  conspicuous 
and  memorable  in  his  ministry: — 1.  The  cure 
of  the  paralytic  on  the  occasion  of  his  second 
visit  to  Jerusalem.  2.  The  cure  of  the  demo- 
niac in  the  synagogue  of  Capernaum,  when 
opening  his  ministry  in  Galilee.  3.  The  cure 
of  Peter's  wife's  mother,  the  same  afternoon,  in 
the  same  city.  4.  The  cure  of  a  man  with  a 
withered  hand,  a  few  Sabbaths  afterwards,  in 
the  same  city.  5.  The  cure  of  the  man  born 
blind,  who  sat  begging  hi  the  porch  of  the 
Temple  at  Jerusalem.     6.  The  cure  of  a  wo- 


On  Sabbath-bkeaking.  31 

man  who  had  the  spirit  of  infirmity  for  eighteen 
years.  7.  The  cure  of  the  man  with  a  dropsy 
who  happened  to  be  present  at  a  feast  given 
on  a  Sabbath  day  in  the  house  of  a  chief  pubh- 
can,  an  invitation  to  which  Jesus  had  accepted. 
N'ot  one  of  these  was  effected  in  answer  to  any 
apphcation  made.  They  were  all  spontaneous, 
done  of  Christ's  own  free  will  and  motion. 
Nor  was  there,  in  regard  to  most  of  them,  any 
urgency,  requiring  that  the  healing  should  have 
been  done  that  day,  if  done  at  all.  Jesus  might 
have  chosen  another  day  rather  than  the  Sab- 
bath to  walk  through  the  crowded  porches  of 
Bethesda.  The  impotent  man  had  lain  too 
long  there  to  make  a  day  earlier  or  a  day  later 
of  much  moment  to  him.  It  was  the  same 
with  the  blind  beggar  of  Jerusalem  :  and  these 
were  the  two  instances  of  cures  upon  the  Sab- 
bath day  which  drew  most  public -notice  and 
were  attended  with  the  most  important  results. 
But  Jesus  was  not  content  with  simply  reliev- 
ing; the  sufterers  on  these  occasions.  He  did 
himself,  or  he  bade  his  patients  do,  what  he 
was  well  aware  would  attract  the  eye  and  draw 
down  upon  it  the  condemnation  of  the  priest- 
hood. How  easy  had  it  been  for  him  at  Beth- 
esda to  have  cured  the  man  in  passing,  and  told 


32  The  Chakge 

iiiin  to  lie  quietly  there  till  next  day,  so  that  no 
one  should  have  known  anything  of  the  cure. 
But  he  told  him  to  take  up  his  bed  and  carry 
it  through  the  streets,  obtruding  thus  on  the  eye 
of  the  spectators  an  act  which  seemed  to  be  an 
open  and  flagrant  breach  of  the  command  de- 
livered by  Jeremiah,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord : 
Take  heed  to  yourselves,  and  bear  no  burden 
on  the  Sabbath  day."*  In  curing  the  man 
born  blind  he  spat  on  the  ground  and  made 
clay  of  the  spittle,  and  anointed  the  eyes  of 
the  man  with  the  ointment,  and  said  unto  him, 
Go  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam ;  both  which 
acts,  the  making  and  applying  the  ointment, 
and  the  washing  in  the  sacred  fountain,  were 
deemed  to  be  desecrations  of  the  Sabbath.  It 
thus  appears  that  he  not  only  voluntarily  se- 
lected the  Sabbath  as  the  day  for  performing 
the  cures,  but  wrought  them  in  such  a  way,  or 
accompanied  with  such  directions,  as  forced 
them  into  notice,  and  involved  others  as  well 
as  himself  in  what  was  considered  a  crime  of 
the  deepest  dye^involving  in  fact  the  penalty 
of  death. 

The  paralytic  of  the  porches  and  the  blind 

*  Jer.  xvii.  21. 


On  Sabbath-erf,  a  ktng.  83 

beggar  of  the  wayside  could  both  indeed  plead 
in  their  justification  the  command  of  their 
healer,  and  Jesus  took  upon  himself  the  full  re- 
sponsibilities of  their  acts.  In  meeting  the  first 
challenge  of  his  conduct  as  a  Sabbath-breaker, 
Christ  was  content,  as  appears  from  the  narra- 
tive in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  to 
rest  his  defence  on  his  Sonship  to  the  Father — 
a  sonship  that  might  seem  to  entitle  him  to 
claim  and  exercise  a  liberty  of  action  to  which 
no  other  might  legitimately  aspire.  But,  put- 
ting that  Sonship  aside,  had  Christ's  act  in  heal- 
ing, and  the  man's  act  in  carrying  his  bed,  been 
violations  of  the  Sabbath  law?  This  question 
was  left  unsettled  by  our  Lord's  first  defence 
of  himself  against  the  accusation  of  the  Phari- 
sees. It  served  to  bring  the  matter  out,  not  as 
one  of  Christ's  peculiar  character,  position,  and 
rights,  but  as  one  having  reference  simply  to 
the  true  interpretation  of  the  existing  law,  when 
it  was  an  act  of  the  disciples  on  which  the 
charge  of  Sabbath-breaking  was  founded.  One 
Sabbath  day  he  and  his  disciples  were  walking 
through  some  cornfields  in  which  the  grain  was 
already  white  unto  the  harvest.  The  disciples 
being  an  hungered,  began  to  pluck  the  ears  of 
corn,  to  rub  them  in  their  hands,  and  eat.     In 


34  The  Charge 

doing  so,  there  was  no  violation  by  them,  as 
there  would  be  with  us,  of  the  rights  of  prop- 
erty. Tlie  old  Jewish  law  ran  thus: — "When 
thou  comest  into  the  standing  corn  of  thy 
neighbor,  then  thou  mayest  pluck  the  ears  with 
thine  hand  ;  but  thou  shalt  not  move  a  sickle 
■unto  thy  neighbor's  standing  corn."* 

The  law  and  practice  of  Palestine  continue 
to  be  this  day  what  they  were  so  many  thou- 
sand years  ago.  We  travelled  in  that  country 
once  in  spring.  Our  course  lay  through  it  be- 
fore the  ears  of  corn  were  full,  but  nothing 
surprised  us  more  than  the  liberties  which  our 
guides  took  in  riding  through  the  fields  and  let- 
ting their  horses  eat  as  much  of  the  standing 
corn  as  they  pleased.  We  felt  at  first  as  if  we 
were  trespassers  and  thieves,  but  were  relieved 
by  finding  that  it  was  done  under  the  eye,  and 
with  the  full  consent,  of  the  owners  of  the  crops. 
There  was  nothing  wrong,  then,  in  what  the 
disciples  of  Jesus  did.  But  it  was  done  upon 
the  Sabbath  day,  which  was  thought  to  be  un- 
lawful. And  there  were  men  who  were  watch- 
ing— dogging  the  steps  of  Jesus  and  his  disci- 
ples, perhaps  to  see  whether  in  their  walk  they 

*  Dent,  zxiii.  25. 


Of  Sabbath-bbkaktnq.  35 

would  exceed  the  distance  to  which  a  Sabbath- 
day's  journey  had  been  restricted.  So  soon  as 
those  lynx-eyed  men  observe  what  the  disciples 
were  doing,  they  inform  the  Pharisees,  who  go 
to  Jesus  to  say,  "  Behold,  thy  disciples  do  that 
which  is  not  lawful  to  do  upon  the  Sabbath 
day."  They  were  only  expressing  the  popular 
beUef  which  they  had  helped  to  form.  It  had 
come  to  be  generally  believed  that  plucking 
and  rubbing  in  the  hand  ears  of  corn  was  work 
that  the  Sabbath  law  condemned,  Jesus  threw 
a  shield  of  defence  over  the  act  of  his  disciples 
by  referring  to  the  conduct  of  David,  esteemed 
to  be  a  model  of  Jewish  piety.  Once  when  he 
and  his  men  were  an  hungered,  he  had  not 
scrupled  to  break  the  rules,  to  violate  the  sanc- 
tity^of  the  Holy  Place.  We  may  believe  that 
it  was  on  a  Sabbath  day  he  did  so.  Doubly 
appropriate,  therefore,  was  the  reference  to  it ; 
but  it  was  not  essential  to  Christ's  argument 
that  the  act  was  done  upon  the  Sabbath  day. 
What  Christ  mainly  desired  by  his  allusion  to 
the  case  of  David,  was  to  establish  the  principle 
that  the  pressure  of  hunger  vindicated  the  set- 
ting aside  for  the  time  of  the  strictest  even  of 
the  Temple  regulations.  But  these  regulations, 
and  the  whole  Temple  service  which  they  sus- 


36  The  Chaege 

tained,  were  held  to  be  of  such  superior  unpor- 
tance  to  the  Sabbatic  law,  that  when  both 
could  not  be  kept,  the  latter  had  to  give  way. 
A  vast  amount  of  what  elsewhere  would  have 
been  acccrunted  as  Sabbath-breaking  went  on 
every  Sabbath  day  in  the  Temple.  If  the 
Temple,  then,  carried  it  over  the  Sabbath,  and 
hunger  carried  it  over  the  Temple,  as  free  of 
fault  as  David  and  his  men  were — so  free  of 
fault  were  Christ's  disciples.  To  ^whatever 
their  hunger  was  due,  it  had  come  upon  them 
owing  to  their  connection  with  him  ;  and  if  in 
Jerusalem  the  Temple  towered  above  the  Sab- 
bath and  threw  its  protection  over  its  servants 
engaged  in  its  work,  here  in  the  fields  of  Galilee 
was  one  greater  than  the  Temple,  throwing  his 
protection  over  his  disciples  as  they  followed 
him.     They,  too,  must  be  acquitted. 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  the  act  of  his  disci- 
ples be  in  this  way  vindicated.  Our  Lord 
seizes  the  opportunity  to  let  the  Pharisees 
know  that  they  had  mistaken  the  spirit  and  ob- 
ject of  the  ceremonial  law,  and  particularly  of 
the  Sabbatic  institute.  ' '  But  if  ye  had  known, " 
he  added,  "what  this  meaneth,  I  will  have 
mercy  and  not  sacrifice,  ye  would  not  have  con- 
demned   the    guiltless."    Jesus    quotes    here 


Of  Sabbath-breaking.  37 

from  the  Book  of  Hosea*  a  sa3dng  which  more 
than  once  he  repeated.  It  was  not  a  sohtary 
one.  Much  to  the  same  effect  were  the  words 
which  the  first  of  the  Prophets  addressed  to 
the  first  of  the  Kings  :  "  Hath  the  Lord  as 
great  dehght  in  bm'nt-oflferings  and  sacrifices, 
as  in  obeying  the  voice  of  the  Lord  ?  Behold, 
to  obey  is  better  than  sacrifice,  and  to  hearken 
than  the  fat  of  rams."t  The  wisest  of  the 
Kings  responds  to  the  words  of  Samuel  in  the 
proverb,  "To  do  justice  and  judgment  is  more 
acceptable  to  the  Lord  than  sacrifice."  J  Isaiah 
and  Jeremiah  put  words  of  the  same  import 
into  Jehovah's  lips  :  "I  delight  not,  saith  the 
Lord,  in  the  blood  of  buUocks,  or  of  lambs,  or 
of  he-goats.  Wash  you,  make  you  clean  ;  put 
away  the  evil  of  your  doings  from  before  mine 
eyes  ;  cease  to  do  evil ;  learn  to  do  weU." 
"Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  God  of 
Israel :  I  spake  not  unto  your  fathers,  nor 
commanded  them  in  the  day  that  I  brought 
them  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  concerning 
burnt-ofierings  or  sacrifices ;  but  this  thing 
commanded  I  them,  Obey  my  voice,  and  I  will 
be  your  God,  and  ye  shall  be  my  people  ;  and 

•  Hos.  vi.  6.  +1  Sam.  xv.  22.  t  Prov.  xxi  3. 


38  The  Charge 

walk  ye  in  all  the  ways  that  I  have  commanded 
you,  that  it  may  be  well  unto  you."*  There 
is  something  singularly  impressive  in  hearing 
such  emphatic  testimonies  to  the  comparative 
worthlessness  of  sacrifices  and  offerings,  of  all 
merely  ritualistic  observances  issuing  from  the 
heart  of  the  old  Jewish  economy  ;  spoken  at 
the  very  time  when  all  those  statutes  and  ordi- 
nances of  the  Lord  were  in  full  force,  that  de- 
fine so  minutely,  and  prescribe  so  peremptorily 
the  formalities  of  Jewish  worship. 

Jesus,  in  quoting  one  of  these  testimonies, 
and  applying  it  to  the  case  of  his  disciples'  con- 
duct, puts  Sabbath-keeping,  so  far  as  it  consist- 
ed merely  in  abstaining  from  this  or  that  kind 
of  work,  in  the  same  category  as  sacrifice,  re- 
garding it  as  part  of  that  formal  and  external 
mode  of  honoring  and  serving  the  Supreme 
which  ought  never  to  stand  in  the  way  of  any 
work  of  need  or  of  benevolence.  Had  the  Phari- 
sees but  listened  to  the  voice  of  their  own  pro- 
phets, they  would  have  understood  this  ;  but, 
deaf  to  that  voice,  they  had  drawn  tighter  and 
tighter  the  bonds  of  the  required  Sabbatic  ser- 
vice, ever  narrowing  the  field  of  what  was  al- 

•  Isa.  i.  11,  16  ;  Jer.  vu.  21,  23. 


Of  Sabbath-breaking.  39 

lowable  on  the  seventh  day,  till  they  had  laid 
a  yoke  upon  men's  shoulders  too  heavy  for 
them  to  bear.  From  this  yoke,  at  all  hazard 
to  himself,  Jesus  will  relieve  his  countrymen, 
proclaiming  in  their  ears  the  great  and  pregnant 
truth,  "  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and 
not  man  for  the  Sabbath."  The  Sabbath  is  but 
a  means  to  an  end  ;  that  end  is,  man's  present 
comfort,  his  spiritual  and  eternal  good.  Wher- 
ever, therefore,  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath  in 
the  way  prescribed,  instead  of  promoting  w^ould 
frustrate  that  end,  it  was  more  honored  in  the 
breach  than  in  the  observance.  It  was  never 
to  be  regarded  as  in  itself  an  end.  Apart  from 
the  physical,  social,  moral,  and  religious  benefits 
to  be  thereby  realized,  there  was  no  merit  in 
painfully  doing  this  one  thing,  or  rigorously  ab- 
staining from  that  other.  The  Sabbath  was 
made  to  serve  man,  but  man  was  not  made  to 
serve  or  be  a  slave  to  the  Sabbath.  And  just 
because  it  was  an  institution  which,  when  right- 
ly used,  is  so  eminently  fitted  to  minister  to 
man's  present  and  eternal  good,  the  Son  of 
Man,  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but 
to  minister,  as  Head  of  our  humanity,  to  render 
to  it  the  greatest  of  all  services,  and  to  take  all 
other  servants  of  it  under  his  care  and  keeping, 


40  The  Chaege 

would  show  himself  to  be  Lord  also  of  the  SaV 
bath. 

It  was  in  this  character  that  Jesus  acted  on 
the  Sabbath  which  so  closely  followed  the  inci- 
dent of  the  walk  in  the  corn-fields.  In  some 
unnamed  synagogue  he  sat  and  taught.  A  man 
whose  right  hand  was  withered  stood  before  him. 
Had  he  been  brought  there  to  serve  the  pur- 
poses of  these  watchful  enemies,  who  wished, 
not  simply  to  have  his  own  acts  to  bring  up 
against  him,  (for  these,  as  the  acts  of  a  prophet, 
might  be  regarded  as  privileged, )  but  to  get 
from  him  a  distinct  categorical  reply  to  the 
question,  whether  it  was  lawful  for  any  man  who 
had  4:he  power  of  healing  to  exert  it  on  the  Sab- 
bath day  ?  So  soon  at  least  as  they  saw  his  eye 
fastened  upon  the  withered  hand,  and  before  he 
did  anything,  they  interpose  their  question,  "  Is 
it  lawful  to  heal  on  the  Sabbath  days  ?"  The 
question  is  met  by  an  appeal  to  their  own  prac- 
tice :  "  What  man  shah  there  be  among  you 
that  shall  have  one  sheep,  and  if  it  fall  into  a 
pit  on  the  Sabbath  day,  will  he  not  lay  hold  on 
it  and  lift  it  out?  How  much  then  is  a  man  bet- 
ter than  a  sheep  ?  Wherefore  it  is  lawful  to  do 
well  on  the  Sabbath  days."  But  they  shall  not 
only  have  its  lawfulness  asserted,  they  shall  see 


Of  Sabbath-beeakinq. 


41 


the  good  done  before  their  eyes.     Jesus  bids 
the  man  with  the  withered  hand  stand  forth. 
But  ere  he  cures  hira  he  turns  to  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  and  puts  m  his  turn  a  question 
cutting  deep  into  their  deceitful  hearts  :  "  Is  it 
lawfuTto  do  good  on  the  Sabbath  days,"— as  I 
am  doing—"  or  to  do  evil?"— as  ye  do  in  sus- 
pecting and  mahgning  me  ;— "  to  save  life,"— 
as  I  do—"  or  to  kill,"— as  ye  are  doing  who  are 
already  meditating  my  death?  There  is  no  an- 
swer to  this  question.     They  stand  speechless 
before  him,  but  unconvinced  and  unrelenting. 
"  And  Jesus  looked  around  about  on  them 
with  anger."     The  meek,  and  the  gentle,  and 
the  patient  one  !     What  was  it  that  fiUed  his 
breast  with  such  a  glow  of  indignation,  that 
it  broke  out  in  this  unwonted  look  of  anger  ? 
It  was  the  sight  of  men,  who,  laying  hold  of 
one  of  his  Father's  most  merciful  institutes— 
that  which  for  man  and  beast,  and  the  whole 
laboring  creation,  provided  a  day  of  returning 
rest,  amid  whose  quiet  the  reflecting  spirit  of 
man   might   rise   to  the  contemplation   of  its 
higher  ends  and  its  eternal  destiny— instead  of 
lookmg  at  the  primary  command  to  keep  holy 
each  seventh  day,  as  it  stood  enshrined  among 
those  precepts  which  enjoined  a  supreme  love 


42  The  Charge  op  Sabbath-breaking. 

10  God,  and  a  corresponding  love  to  man,  and 
allowing  this  one  positive  and  external  institute 
to  receive  its  interpretation  from  those  immut- 
able moral  laws  among  which  it  was  inter- 
posed, had  exalted  it  into  a  place  of  isolation 
and  false  importance,  attaching  a  specific  vir- 
tue to  the  bare  outward  keeping  of  the  letter, 
magnifying  to  the  uttermost  the  minutest  acts 
of  bodily  service  ;  finding  therein  the  materials 
which  the  spirit  of  self-righteousness  employed 
for  its  own  low  and  sordid  purposes,  an  instru- 
ment which  it  would  have  used  for  defrauding 
the  poor  and  the  needy  and  the  diseased  of 
that  help  which  the  hand  of  charity  was  ready 
to  render  ; — such  was  the  source  of  that  an- 
ger with  which  Jesus  looked  around  about  on 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees. 


m. 


THE  CALLING  TO  THE  APOSTOLATE  OF  ST.  PETER, 
ST.  ANDREW,  ST.  JAMES,  ST.  JOHN,  AND  ST.  MAT- 
THEW.* 

EXTRAORDINARY  success  naturaUy  ex- 
cites exaggerated  hopes.  A  sudden  blaze  of 
prosperity  has  bhnded  the  strongest  human  eye. 
Nor  can  3^ou  point  to  any  great  enterprise,  sig- 
nally successful  at  its  outset,  of  which  you  will 
not  find  it  true  that  those  engaged  in  it  were, 
for  a  short  time  at  least,  seduced  into  exorbitant 
expectations.  If  ever  any  success  might  have 
operated  in  this  way,  it  was  that  which  attended 
the  close  of  the  first  year  of  our  Lord's  ministry. 
The  whole  population  of  Galilee,  a  community 
of  from  two  to  three  millions,  stirred  in  its 
depths  the  excitement  spreading  all  around, 
reaching  eastward  beyond  the  Jordan,  westward 

•  Luke  V.  1-11 ;     Matt.  iv.  18-22,  ix.  9-17  ;    Mark  L  16-20,  ii 
14-22  ;  Luke  v.  27-30. 


^  The  Calling 

to  the  coasts  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  southward  to 
the  hill  country  of  Judea.  It  is  no  longer,  as 
in  the  days  that  followed  the  baptism  by  the 
banks  of  the  Jordan,  an  obscure  Nazarene 
travelling  with  a  few  friends  who  had  attached 
themselves  to  his  person,  it  is  the  great  Worker 
of  miracles,  the  Healer  of  all  diseases,  the 
Caster-out  of  devils,  surrounded  and  pressed  iu 
upon  so  closely  by  admiring  and  enthusiastic 
crowds,  that  to  get  a  few  quiet  hours  he  had  to 
steal  them  from  sleep — to  spend  them  in  the 
mountain  solitudes.  It  is  no  longer  in  the 
synagogue  and  on  the  Sabbath  days  alone  that 
audiences  are  to  be  found  ;  everywhere  and  at 
all  times  assemblages,  often  too  large  for  his 
addressing  them,  are  ready  to  hang  upon  his 
lips.  But  you  search  in  vain  through  aU  the 
wonderful  excitement  and  popularity  which 
followed  our  Lord  in  his  first  circuit  through 
Galilee,  for  the  slightest  evidences  that  any 
false  or  exaggerated  expectations  were  cher- 
ished. The  specious  appearances  that  then 
surrounded  Him  never  dazzled  nor  deceived 
his  eye.  He  knew  from  the  beginning  how 
soon  the  sudden  fervors  of  the  first  great  com- 
motion would  subside — how  soon  the  tide  that 
swelled  so  high  would   ebb  away.     He  knew 


To  THE  Apostolate.  45 

that  had  he  left  to  themselves  those  among 
whom  he  hved  and  labored,  had  he  done  noth- 
to  bind  some  of  them  to  himself  by  ties  closer 
and  stronger  than  any  they  naturally  or  spon- 
taneously would  have  formed,  he  would  at  the 
close  have  been  left  alone.  And  therefore  it 
was  that  at  the  very  time  when  his  popularity 
was  at  the  highest,  he  took  the  first  step  to- 
wards binding  to  himself  twelve  chosen  men  in 
links  which,  besides  all  the  pains  that  he  took 
himself  to  forge  and  fasten  them,  needed  the 
welding  forces  of  the  day  of  Pentecost  to  make 
them  strong  enough  to  bind  them  everlastingly 
to  him. 

To  these  twelve  men,  an  office,  secondary 
only  to  the  one  he  himself  discharged,  was  to 
be  assigned.  They  were  always  to  be  with 
him,  the  spectators  and  reporters  of  all  he  said., 
and  did,  and  suffered.  They  were  to  share 
and  multiply  his  labors,  to  protect  and  relieve 
him  from  the  pressure  to  which  he  was  exposed. 
For  a  short  season  he  was  to  send  them  from 
his  side,  to  teach  and  to  work  miracles  as  he 
did  himself,  that  a  short  fore-trial  might  be 
made  of  the  work  in  which  they  were  after- 
wards to  be  engaged.  After  his  death  they 
were  to  be  the  witnesses  of  the  Resurrection 


^6  The  Calling 

the  expounders  of  that  Gospel  which  needed 
the  great  decease  to  be  accomphshed  ere  in  its 
full  measure  it  could  be  proclaimed.  By  their 
hands  the  foundations  of  the  Church  were  to 
be  laid.  Let  us  note,  then,  the  first  steps  in 
their  calling  to  this  high  office. 

On  his  return  from  the  Temptation,  by  the 
banks  of  the  Jordan,  and  on  their  way  thence 
to  Galilee,  five  men — Andrew,  John,  Peter, 
Philip,  and  Nathanael — had  temporarily  at- 
tached themselves  to  Jesus.  Of  these,  only 
one — Philip — had  been  called  by  our  Lord 
himself  to  follow  him.  The  others  were  attract- 
ed by  what  they  had  heard  about  him,  or  saw 
in  him.  At  first,  however,  it  was  but  a  loose 
and  uncertain  bond  that  united  them  to  Jesus. 
All  the  five  were  present,  we  may  believe,  at 
the  marriage  feast  at  Cana,  and  may  have  gone 
up  with  him  to  Jerusalem,  to  the  first  Passover 
which  he  attended  after  his  baptism.  But  they 
did  not  remain  in  constant  attendance  upon  his 
person.  After  his  first  circuit  of  Galilee,  when 
his  fame  was  at  its  height,  three  of  them  had 
returned  to  their  ordinary  occupation  as  fisher- 
men. With  them  a  fourth  became  associated. 
As  Andrew  had  brought  his  brother  Peter  to 
Jesus,  we  may  imagine  that  the  same  service 


To  THE  Apostolate.  47 

had  been  rendered  by  John  to  his  brother 
James  ;  so  that  all  the  four  were  already  well 
known  to  Christ,  had  enjoyed  much  familiar 
intercourse  with  him,  and  had  appeared  often 
openly  as  his  followers.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
common  bond  of  discipleship  to  him  which  in 
the  course  of  the  year  had  drawn  them  into 
closer  union  with  one  another.  Peter  and  An- 
drew had  previously  resided  at  Bethsaida,  a  town 
at  the  northeastern  extremity  of  the  lake,  but 
they  had  now  removed  to  Capernaum,  had  en- 
tered into  partnership  with  the  two  sons  of 
Zebedee,  and  had  been  plying  their  craft  to- 
gether on  the  lake,  when  all  the  four  were 
pointedly  and  specially  summoned,  in  a  way 
they  never  before  had  been,  to  follow  the  Lord. 
The  difficulties  that  many  have  felt  in  harmo- 
nizing the  narratives  in  the  fourth  chapter  of 
St.  Matthew  and  first  chapter  of  St.  Mark,  with 
that  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  have  led 
them  to  believe  that  two  such  summonses  were 
given  ;  that  on  the  first  occasion — the  one  re- 
ferred to  by  the  two  former — the  four  had  an- 
swered the  appeal  by  an  immediate  throwhig 
up  of  their  occupation  by  the  lake  side,  but 
that  they  had  again,  and  not  long  afterwards, 
resumed  it,  requiring  a  still  more   impressive 


48  The  Calling 

instrumentality  finally  to  sever  the  bonds.  We 
are  inclined  rather  to  believe  that  all  which  the 
three  Evangelists  relate  occurred  in  the  course 
of  the  same  morning,  and  that  it  happened 
somewhat  in  this  manner  : 

The  day  had  dawned.  From  his  solitary 
place  of  rest  and  prayer,  somewhere  among  the 
neighboring  hills,  Jesus  had  come  down  to  the 
quiet  beach  as  the  first  light  of  the  morning 
struck  across  the  placid  bosom  of  the  lake. 
The  unproductive  toil  of  the  night  was  nearly 
over  for  the  fishermen.  Out  a  little  distance 
upon  the  waters,  Peter  and  Andrew  had  cast 
in  their  net  for  the  last  time  as  Jesus  ap- 
proached the  shore.  But  his  progress  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  crowds  hurrying  out  of  Caper- 
naum, so  soon  as  it  was  known  that  he  was 
there.  Through  these  crowds- — stopping  occa- 
sionally to  address  a  few  words  to  them — Jesus 
made  his  way  to  one  or  other  of  those  small 
creeks  or  inlets,  still  to  be  seen  there,  where  a 
boat  could  ride  a  few  feet  from  the  shore,  and 
the  people,  seated  on  either  side  and  before  the 
speaker,  could  listen  quietly  to  one  addressing 
them  from  the  boat.  Here,  in  this  creek,  two 
boats  were  drawn  up,  the  property  of  the  four 
'—the  two  pairs  of  brothers  already  spoken  of. 


To  THE  Apostolate.  49 

The  fishermen  had  gone  out  of  them,  and  were 
mending  their  nets  ;  not  so  far  away,  however, 
but  that  one  of  them,  Peter,  noticing  the  Lord's 
approach,  had  returned.  Entering  into  his 
boat,  Jesus  asked  Peter  to  thrust  out  a  httle 
from  the  land  ;  and  when  this  was  done,  he  sat 
down  and  taught  the  people  out  of  the  boat. 
The  teaching  ovei%  Jesus  turned  to  Peter,  and 
said  to  him,  "  Launch  out  into  the  deep,  and 
let  down  your  nets  for  a  draught '' — a  singular 
command  to  come  from  one  who  knew  so  little 
— might  be  supposed  to  care  so  httle — about 
the  fisherman's  craft.  Still  it  came  so  decidedly 
from  one  whom  Peter  had  already  learned  to 
address  as  Master,  that,  with  a  few  words  of 
explanation,  indicative  of  the  smallness  of  his 
hope,  he  prepares  to  comply  with  it.  "Mas- 
ter," he  says,  "  we  have  toiled  all  the  night, 
and  have  taken  nothing ;  nevertheless  at  thy 
word  I  will  let  down  the  net."  He  calls  his 
brother,  and  launches  out — lets  down  the  net. 
At  once  such  a  multitude  of  fishes  is  enclosed, 
that  the  boat  begins  to  fill — the  net  to  break. 
Excited  by  what  they  had  seen,  James  and 
John  had  by  this  time  launched  their  boat,  and 
Peter  beckons  them  to  come  and  help.  They 
come,  but  all  the  help  they  can  give  is  scarce 


50  The  CALLma 

sufficient.     Both   boats   are  filled,  and  almost 
sinking  as  they  get  ashore. 

Peter  had  already  seen  Jesus  do  wonderful 
things — turn  water  into  wine,  eject  the  devil 
from  the  demoniac,  raise  his  own  wife's  mother 
from  the  fever-bed  ;  but  somehow  this  wonder 
came  home  to  him  as  none  of  them  had  done 
— wrought  in  his  own  vessel,  with  his  own  net, 
in  the  way  of  his  own  calling,  after  his  own  fruit- 
less toil.  Never  had  the  impression  of  a  Divine 
Power  at  work  in  his  immediate  presence  taken 
such  a  hold  of  him.  Never  had  the  sense  of  his 
being  in  close  contact  with  One  in  whom  such 
power  resided  come  so  upon  his  spirit.  Aston- 
ishment, fear,  humiliation — the  impression,  not 
of  his  weakness  only,  but  of  his  sinfulness — of 
his  unworthiness  to  stand  in  such  a  presence — 
fill  and  overwhelm  his  open,  ardent,  impressible 
spirit.  He  falls  at  Jesus'  knees,  as  he  sat  there 
in  the  boat,  quietly  watching  all  the  stir  and 
bustle  of  the  fishermen ;  and  he  gives  vent  to 
the  feeling  that  for  a  moment  is  uppermost,  as 
he  exclaims,  "Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sin- 
ful man,  0  Lord !"  And  ever  still,  when  the 
first  clear  and  overpowering  revelation  is  made 
to  any  man  of  an  Almighty  Being  compassing 
his  path,  besetting  him  before  and  behind,  lay- 


To  THE  Apostolate.  51 

ing  his  hand  upon  him, — ever  when  the  first 
true  and  real  contact  takes  place  of  the  human 
spirit  with  the  living  God  as  the  Being  with 
whom  we  have  so  closely  and  constantly  to  do, 
will  something  like  the  same  effect  be  realized. 
So  was  it  with  him  who  said,  "  I  have  heard  of 
thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine 
eye  seeth  thee  ;  wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and 
repent  in  dust  and  ashes."  So  was  it  with  him 
wdio  said,  "  Woe  is  me  !  for  I  am  a  man  of  un- 
clean lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people  of 
unclean  lips  :  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  the  King, 
the  Lord  of  hosts." 

"  Depart  from  me."  Nothing  could  have  sur- 
prised Peter  more  than  the  Lord's  taking  him 
at  his  word — then  and  forever  after  turning  his 
back  upon  him.  No  man  then  hving  would 
have  felt  such  a  forsaking  more.  Wishing  to 
express  how  unfit  he  felt  himself  for  such  a  pres- 
ence, Peter,  with  his  wonted  rashness,  had  said 
more  than  he  really  meant.  He  asks  Christ  to 
go,  yet  he  clings  to  him.  "  I  am  a  sinful  man, 
0  Lord."  Jesus  knows  that  better  than  Peter 
does,  Peter  will  know  it  better  when  the  Lord 
looks  at  him  in  the  judgment -hall,  and  he  goes 
out  to  weep  over  his  denials.  But  Jesus  knows, 
also,  that  it  is  because  he  is  so  sinful  a  man  he 


52  TuE  Cat,t,tnq 

must  not  be  forsaken.  And  though  he  is  so 
sinful  a  man,  yet  still  he  may  be  chosen  to  stand 
in  closest  relationship  to  his  master.  "  Fear 
not,"  said  Jesus  to  him;  "  from  henceforth  thou 
shalt  catch  men." 

The  words  of  direction,  assurance,  promise, 
addressed  in  the  first  instance  to  Peter  alone, 
were  soon  repeated  to  his  three  associates. 
The  shore  was  reached,  the  boats  hauled  up, 
the  fish  disposed  of,  James  and  John  had  car- 
ried the  broken  nets  away  to  a  little  distance 
to  mend  them,  when  first  to  the  one  pair  of 
brothers,  and  then  to  the  other,  Jesus  said, 
"  Follow  me,  and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of 
men."  And  immediately  they  left  boats  and 
nets,  and  two  of  them  their  father,  and  forsook 
all,  and  followed  him.  We  may  think  it  was 
not  much  that  they  had  to  leave,  but  it  was 
their  all ;  and  the  promptness  and  entireness 
of  their  relinquishment  of  it  shows  what  power 
over  them  the  Saviour  had  already  got — what 
a  readiness  for  service  and  for  sacrifice  was  al- 
ready in  them.  And  these  were  the  four  men 
who  ever  after  stood  most  closely  associated 
with  Jesus — the  fom*  who  stand  at  the  head  of 
every  list  of  the  twelve  Apostles. 

It  was  not  indeed  till  some  time  after  this 


To  THE  Apostolate.  63 

that,  along  with  the  other  eight,  they  were  set 
apart  to  the  pecuUar  office  of  the  Apostolate, 
This  calling  of  them  away  from  their  former 
avocations,  this  attaching  of  them  permanently 
to  his  person,  was  a  marked  step  toward  their 
installment  in  that  position.  It  was  the  same 
with  Matthew,  the  publican.  The  high  road 
from  Damascus  southward  to  Judea  and  Egypt 
ran  from  the  slopes  of  Mount  Hermon  down  to 
the  northern  extremity  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
and  for  a  short  distance  skirted  along  the  north- 
western shore  of  the  lake,  passing  through 
Capernaum.  On  the  side  of  this  road,  close  to 
the  lake,  stood  the  booth  in  which  Matthew  sat 
levying  the  toll,  on  the  passengers  and  their 
goods.  He  was  one  of  a  hated  and  degraded 
class.  The  payment  of  the  taxes  exacted  by 
the  foreigners  under  whose  rule  they  were, 
irritated  to  the  last  degree  the  Jews,  who  re- 
garded it  as  a  visible  sign  and  token  of  their 
bondage.  The  strong  feeling  thus  excited 
spent  itself  on  all  who  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  collection  of  these  taxes.  No  Jew  who 
desired  to  stand  well  with  his  fellow-country- 
men would  be  a  tax-gatherer.  The  office  was 
commonly  held  by  foreigners,  or  by  those  who 
cared  but  little  for  a  purely  Jewish  reputation. 


64  The  Callinq 

Matthew  was  a  Jew,  yet  he  had  become  a 
pubhcan,  and  now  he  is  sitting  at  the  receipt 
of  custom  as  Jesus  passed  by.  We  know 
nothing  of  his  personal  character  or  previous 
habits.  Considering  that  a  year  at  least  had 
passed  since  Jesus  had  first  appeared  as  a  pub- 
lic teacher  in  Galilee — that  so  prominent  a  part 
of  his  ministry  had  been  conducted  in  the  very 
neighborhood  in  which  Matthew  lived — it  may 
be  regarded  as  a  violent  supposition  that  there 
had  been  no  previous  acquaintance  and  inter- 
course between  him  and  our  Lord.  It  would 
be  more  in  keeping  with  Christ's  conduct  in 
other  instances  to  imagine  that,  so  far  as  his 
occupation  had  permitted,  Matthew  had  already 
appeared  as  a  follower  of  the  new  teacher,  had 
shown  himself  to  have  been  favorably  aflected 
towards  him.  However  it  was,  Jesus  saw  hi 
him  a  man  who,  under  right  teaching  and 
training,  would  be  well  suited  for  the  high  office 
he  intended  to  confer  upon  him ;  and  so, 
despite  of  the  invidious  office  he  now  held, 
Jesus  stopped  as  he  passed  by — said,  "Follow 
me  :"  and  "he  left  all,  rose  up,  and  followed 
him,"  throwing  up  thus  a  lucrative  engagement, 
and  casting  in  his  lot  with  the  small  but  grow- 
ing band  which  Jesus  was  forming. 


To  THE  Apostolate.  55 

So  soon  as  it  was  known  that  a  publican  had 
not  only  been  seen  in  the  following  of  Jesus — 
vvhicli  might  have  occurred  and  occasioned  no 
remark — but  that  Jesus  had  actually  selected  a 
pubhcan  and  invited  him  to  become  one  of  his 
immediate  attendants,  a  great  commotion 
among  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  arose.  It 
was  a  pubhc  scandal,  an  offence  against  all 
propriety,  that  one  pretending  to  be  a  religious 
guide  of  the  people — one  preaching  the  King- 
dom of  God — should  call  a  publican  to  his  side, 
and  take  him  into  his  confidence.  Bad  enough 
that  he  should  himself  be  seen  breaking  the 
Sabbath  and  encouraging  his  disciples  to  do 
so  likewise,  but  to  pass  by  all  the  respectable 
inhabitants  of  Capernaum — so  many  of  whom 
were  conspicuous  for  the  strictness  of  their 
observance  of  all  the  Jewish  ordinances, — and 
to  confer  such  a  mark  of  favor  upon  a  man 
with  whom  none  of  them  would  associate — 
what  was  to  be  thought  of  such  an  act  ?  But 
the  worst  had  not  yet  come.  Either  instantly 
upon  his  throwing  up  his  office,  or  a  few  days 
thereafter,  this  Matthew  makes  a  feast — a  fare- 
well one,  it  would  seem — to  which  a  number 
of  his  old  friends  and  associates  were  invited, 
and  there  Jesus  and  his  disciples  were  to  be 


56  The  Calling 

seen  sitting  among  the  other  guests.  The 
Pharisees  could  not  stand  this.  They  did  not 
venture,  indeed,  to  go  and  openly  reproach 
Christ  personally  with  it.  They  were  smarting 
too  keenly  under  the  recent  rebuke  they  had 
got  from  him  to  have  courage  to  do  so,  but 
they  go  to  his  disciples,  and  they  say  to  them, 
"  Why  eateth  your  master  with  publicans  and 
sinners  ? "  Jesus  does  not  leave  it  to  the  disci- 
ples to  reply.  As  in  so  many  other  instances, 
he  takes  the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  and, 
half  in  irony,  half  in  earnest,  he  says  to  them, 
"  They  that  be  whole  need  not  a  physician,  but 
they  that  be  sick."  They  thought  themselves 
the  hale  and  healthy  ;  they  spake  of  these  pub- 
licans and  sinners  as  corrupt  and  diseased  ; — 
why,  then,  blame  him  if  he,  as  the  great  Phy- 
sician, went  where  his  services  were  most  re- 
quired? It  was  sinners,  not  the  righteous, 
that  he  came  to  call  to  repentance.  If  they 
needed  no  repentance,  why  blame  him  if  he 
went  to  call  those  whose  ears  were  open  to  his 
entreaties  ?  But  were  they,  indeed,  so  much 
better  than  those  whom  they  despised  ?  The 
difference  between  them  was  far  more  an  out- 
ward, a  ceremonial,  than  an  inward,  a  moral,  a 
spiritual  one.     Many  of  these  poor  publicans 


To  THE  Apostolate.  67 

and  sinners — excommunicated  though  they 
might  be — very  careless  about  religious  rites- 
were  men  of  simpler,  truer,  more  honest  natures, 
kindlier  in  their  dispositions,  and  in  a  sense,  too, 
more  devout,  than  many  of  these  pretentious 
pietists.  "  Go,"  said  Jesus  to  those  who  im- 
aghied  themselves  to  be  righteous  and  despised 
others — "  Go,  and  learn  what  that  meaneth  :  I 
will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice " — mercy 
rather  than  sacrifice  if  the  two  be  put  in  com- 
parison ;  mercy  alone,  and  no  sacrifice,  if  the 
two  are  put  in  oppositioi^ — mercy  among  pub- 
hcans  and  sinners  rather  than  sacrifice  or  any 
amount  of  ceremonial  observances  among 
Scribes  and  Pharisees. 

But  now  another  class  interferes,  to  make 
common  cause  with  the  Pharisees.  Some  of 
the  disciples  of  John  the  Baptist  had  early  seen 
the  superiority  of  Jesus,  and  at  their  master's 
own  instance  had  enrolled  themselves  among 
his  followers.  But  others  stood  aloof,  having 
more  in  them  of  the  old  Judaic  spirit — attracted 
as  much  by  the  ascetic  habits  of  the  Baptist  as 
by  anything  about  him — recognizing  in  the 
fasts  that  he  kept,  the  prayers  that  he  himseli 
offered  and  taught  his  disciples  to  offer,  a  re- 
turn to  a  still  purer  and  stricter  piety  than  even 


58  The  Calling 

that  which  the  Pharisees  practised.  It  was  a 
strange  and  repulsive  thing  to  such,  at  the  very 
hour  when  their  master  was  cast  into  prison 
and  they  were  mourning  and  fasting  more  than 
usual  on  this  account,  to  see  Jesus  and  his  dis- 
ciples going  about  eating  and  drinking — nay, 
accepting  invitations  to  festive  entertainments 
in  publicans'  houses.  St.  Matthew  tells  us  that 
these  disciples  of  John  went  at  once  to  Jesus 
with  their  complaint.  St.  Mark  completes  the 
picture  by  informing  us  that  the  Pharisees 
joined  with  them  in  the  complaint.  Nothing 
more  likely  than  that  when  the  one  saw  how 
differently  the  discipleship  of  Jesus  was  devel- 
oping itself  from  what  they  had  expected,  they 
should  rather  fall  back  upon  the  austerity  of 
Pharisaism,  with  its  frequent  fastings  and  many 
prescribed  exercises  of  devotion — nothing  more 
natural  than  that  the  Pharisees  should  seize 
upon  the  occasion  and  ally  themselves  with  the 
followers  of  the  Baptist,  to  aim  thereby  a  fresh 
blow  at  Christ's  authority  and  influence  over 
the  people.  Christ's  answer  meets  both  sets 
of  complainers.  "  And  Jesus  said  unto  them, 
Can  the  children  of  the  bridechamber  mourn, 
as  long  as  the  bridegroom  is  with  them  ?  but 
the  days  will  come,  when  the  bridegroom  shall 


To  THE  Apostoiate.  59 


be  taken  from  them,  and  then  shall  they  fast.' 
In  the   last    testimony  that  the    Baptist   had 
borne  to  Jesus  had  he  not  said,  "  He  that  hath 
the  bride  is  the  bridegroom  ;  but  the  friend  of 
the    bridegroom,  which  standeth  and  heareth 
him,  rejoiceth  greatly  because   of  the   bride- 
groom's voice."     The   position  that  John  had 
thus  claimed  for  himself,  those  disciples  against 
whom  the  complaint  was  lodged  were  now  oc- 
cupying.    They  were  the  friends  of  the  bride- 
groom— standing  and  hearing  and  rejoicing — 
was  it  a  time  for  them  to  mourn  and  to  fast  ? 
The  days  were  to  come  when  the  bridegroom 
should  be  taken  away  from  them,  then  should 
they  fast— the  fasting   flowing  spontaneously, 
unbidden,  from  the  grief     There  is  no  general 
command  here  prescribing  fasting,  but  simply 
a  prophecy,  referring  to  a  peculiar  and  brief 
period  in  the  history  of  the  Lord's  disciples  ;  a 
prophecy,  however,  rich   in  the   intimation  it 
conveys  that  all  external  acts   and   exercises, 
such  as  that  of  fasting,  should  spring  naturally 
out   of  some  pure    and   deep  emotion   of  the 
heart,  seeking  for  itself  an  appropriate  expres- 
sion. 


*  Matt.  ix.  15. 


(SO  The  Calling 

And  now  two  short  parables  are  added  by 
our  Lord :  the  first  we  may  regard  as  pecuharly 
apphcable  to  the  disciples  of  John,  the  other  to 
the  Pharisees.  "  No  man  putteth  a  piece  of 
new  cloth  unto  an  old  garment,  for  that  which 
is  put  in  to  fill  it  up  taketh  from  the  garment, 
and  the  rent  is  made  worse,"*  No  man  would 
take  a  piece  of  new,  raw  cloth,  which  would  not 
keep  its  form  afterwards,  which,  when  wet,  wouid 
shrink,  and  sew  it  into  the  rent  of  an  old  gar- 
ment ;  for  ere  long,  when  the  new  pieee  put  in 
contracted,  it  would  tear  itself  away  from  the 
old,  and  the  rent  would  be  made  worse.  And 
let  not  the  disciples  of  the  Baptist  think  that 
this  new  piece  of  their  master's  asceticism,  with 
its  new  fastings  and  new  prayers,  was  to  be 
sewed,  as  they  seemed  to  wish  to  do,  into  the 
old,  worn-out,  rent  garment  of  Pharisaism.  To 
try  that,  would  be  to  try  to  unite  what  could 
not  lastingly  be  conjoined  ;  instead  of  closing  up 
the  rent,  it  would  be  to  make  it  wider  than  ever. 
''Neither  do  men  put  new  wine  into  old  bottles  : 
else  the  bottles  break,  and  the  wine  runneth 
out,  and  the  bottles  perish :  but  they  put  new 
wine  into  new  bottles,  and  both  are  preserved. "f 


*Matt.  ix.  16.  tMatt.  ix.17. 


To  THE  Apostolate.  CI 

No  man  taketh  old,  dry,  withered  skin  bottles, 
such  as  then  were  used,  and  filleth  them  with 
new  wine  ;  for  the  new  wine  woiild  ferment,  ex- 
pand, and  the  bottles  be  burst,  and  the  wine 
spilled  and  lost.  And  let  not  the  Pharisees 
think  that  the  new  wine  of  the  kingdom,  the 
fresh  spirit  of  love  to  God  and  man,  which  Je- 
sus came  to  breathe  into  regenerated  humanity, 
could  be  safely  poured  into  their  old  bottles — 
into  those  forms  and  ceremonies  of  worship,  dry 
as  dust,  and  brittle  as  the  thinnest  and  most 
withered  piece  of  leather.  No,  there  must  be 
new  bottles  for  the  new  wine,  bottles  that  will 
yield  to  the  pressure  from  within,  and  expand 
as  the  fermenting  liquid  which  they  contain  ex- 
panded. And  such  new  bottles  as  were  thus 
required  Jesus  was  finding — not  in  priestly  men, 
chained  up  from  childhood  within  priestly  habits 
— not  in  those  fixed  and  rigid  Levitical  institu- 
tions which  the  long  years  that  h^d  been  drain- 
ing them  of  their  vitality  had  been  stiffening  in- 
to an  immovable  inflexibility  :  but  in  these  fish- 
ermen, these  publicans — natural,  homely,  un- 
learned men,  open  to  imbibe  his  spirit  in  all  its 
richness  and  expansiveness  ;  and  in  those  simple 
forms  and  institutions  of  Christianity,  which, 
cramped  by  no  formal  and  immutable  injunc- 


62  The  Calling 

tions,  were  to  be  left  free  to  take  such  new  out- 
ward shapes  as  the  indwelling  spirit  might 
mould. 

These  two  homely  parables  of  our  Lord,  so 
specially  adapted  as  they  were  to  the  circum- 
stances in  which  they  were  uttered, — the  indi- 
viduals to  whom  they  were  addressed — do  they 
not  carry  with  them  a  lesson  to  all  times  and 
ages  of  Christianity  ?  Do  they  not  remind  us 
of  the  absolute  incompatibility  of  the  legal  and 
the  evangelical  obedience — the  spirit  of  the 
Law  and  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  ?  There  is  a 
religion,  of  which  the  Pharisaism  of  Christ's 
days  was  an  exaggerated  specimen — the  very 
heart  and  soul  of  which  consists  in  penances, 
and  prayers,  and  fastings, — in  worship  offered, 
in  duties  done,  in  sacrifices  made,  in  mortifica- 
tions inflicted  and  endured, — all  to  soothe  an 
agitated  conscience,  to  win  a  peace  with  God, 
to  eke  out  a  hope  of  heaven.  To  this  the  faith 
that  is  in  Christ  our  Saviour  stands  directly  and 
diametrically  opposed — the  one  ofiering  as  a 
free  gift  what  the  other  toils  after  as  a  reward ; 
the  one  inviting  us  to  begin  where  the  other 
would  have  us  end  ;  the  one  putting  forgive- 
ness and  acceptance  with  God  in  our  hand  and 
calling   upon  us,  in  the  free  sphit  of  his  re- 


To  THE  Apostolate.  63 

deemed,  forgiven,  adopted  children,  to  live, 
and  serve,  and  in  all  things  to  submit  to  our 
Father  which  is  in  heaven — the  other  holding 
out  the  forgiveness  and  the  acceptance  away  in 
the  distance,  and  calling  upon  us,  in  the  spirit 
of  bondage,  to  labor  all  through  hfe  for  their 
attainment ;  the  one  the  old  tattered  garment, 
the  other  the  piece  of  the  new-made  cloth. 

And  the  wine  of  the  kingdom,  ever  as  it 
pours  itself  afresh  from  its  fountain-head  on 
high  into  the  spirit  of  man,  is  it  not  a  new  wine 
that  needs  new  bottles  to  contain  it  ?  If  it  be 
indeed  the  spirit  of  Christ  which  is  working  in 
hearts  that  have  been  opened  to  receive  it, 
may  we  not  safely  leave  it  to  its  own  operation 
there,  and  allow  it  to  shape  the  vessel  that 
holds  it  as  it  likes  ?  Both,  indeed,  are  needed, 
— the  outward  form,  the  mner  spirit ;  nor  wiR 
any  wise  or  thoughtful  man  rashly  touch,  or 
mould  into  different  shape  the  first,  thinking 
thereby  to  improve  the  second ;  but  neither 
will  he  hinder  or  hamper  the  second  if  by  its 
own  proper  motion  it  is  going  on  gently  to  re- 
mould the  first. 


ly. 

THE   SERMON   ON   THE   MOUNT.* 

THE  traveller  from  Jerusalem  gets  his  first 
sight  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  from  the  top  of 
Mount  Tabor.  It  is  but  a  small  corner  of  the 
lake  that  he  sees,  lying  miles  away,  deep  sunk 
among  the  hills.  Descending  from  the  height 
whence  this  first  glimpse  of  the  lake  is  got,  the 
road  to  Tiberias  leads  over  an  elevated  undu- 
lating plateau,  the  one  marked  feature  of  which 
is  a  curious  double-peaked  hill,  rising  about 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  above  the  general  level  of  the 
surrounding  table-land,  and  sloping  down  on 
its  eastern  side  into  the  plain  of  Gennesaret. 
From  the  two  prominences  it  presents  this  hUl 
is  called  the  Horns  of  Hattin — Hattin  being  a 
vhlage  at  its  base.  It  overlooks  the  lake  and 
plain.     You  see  Capernaum  from  its  summit, 

*  Matt.  V.  vi.  vii. ;  Luke  vi,  20-49. 


The  Seemon  on  the  Mount.  65 

lying  across  the  valley  about  seven  miles  ofif. 
As  seen  again  from  Capernaum  and  the  plain, 
it  appears  as  the  highest  and  loneliest  elevation 
that  rises  upon  that  side  of  the  lake.  It  would 
naturally  be  spoken  of  by  the  inhabitants  of 
Capernaum  and  its  neighborhood,  even  as 
St.  Matthew  speaks  of  it,  as  the  mountain. 
It  would  naturally  be  the  place  to  which  any 
one  seeking  for  solitude  would  retire.  When 
somewhere  in  its  neighborhood  there  came 
around  our  Lord  "  a  great  multitude  of  people 
out  of  all  Judea  and  Jerusalem,  and  from  the 
sea-coast  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  from  Galilee 
and  Decapolis,  and  from  Idumea  and  from  be- 
yond Jordan,"*  and  when,  seeking  relief  from 
the  pressure,  it  is  said  that  he  went  up  into  a 
mountain,  no  one  so  likely  to  be  the  one  re- 
ferred to  by  the  Evangelist  as  the  Horns  of 
Hattin, — to  which,  as  the  supposed  place  of 
their  utterance,  the  name  of  the  Mount  of  the 
Beatitudes  has  for  ages  been  given. 

The  night  upon  this  mountain  was  spent  by 
Christ  in  prayer — alone  perhaps  upon  the 
higher  summit,  the  disciples  slumbering  below. 
At  dawn  he  called  them  to  him,  and  out  of 

*  Luke  vi  17 ;  Mark  iii.  8  ;  Matt.  iv.  25. 


66  The  Sermon 

them  he  chose  the  twelve,  and  ordained  them 
"  that  they  might  be  with  him,  and  that  he 
might  send  them  forth  to  preach."  But  on 
what  principle  was  the  selection  made  ?  in  what 
manner  was  the  ordination  effected  ?  It  may 
be  presumed  that  some  regard  was  had  to  the 
personal  qualifications  of  those  whom  the  Lord 
chose  for  this  high  office.  We  know  indeed 
too  little  of  any  but  two  or  three  of  the  twelve 
to  trace  the  special  fitness  of  the  human  instru- 
ment for  the  work  given  it  to  do.  Of  all  but 
one,  however,  we  may  believe  that  such  fitness 
did  exist.  But  how  came  that  one  to  be  num- 
bered with  the  rest  ?  It  is  possible  that  Judas 
may  have  done  much  to  obtrude  himself,  or 
that  others  may  have  done  much  to  obtrude 
him  upon  the  notice  of  the  Saviour.  We  read 
of  one  wdio,  with  great  professions  of  attach- 
ment, volunteered  to  become  a  disciple,  saying 
to  Jesus,  "Master,  I  will  follow  thee  whither- 
soever thou  goest ;"  whom  Jesus  neither  re- 
jected nor  welcomed,  meeting  his  declaration 
of  adherence  with  the  ominous  words,  "  The 
foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have 
nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to 
lay  his  head."  If,  as  some  have  thought,  the 
man  who  came  forward  in  this  way  and  i)rcssed 


On  the  Mount.  67 

himself  into  the  discipleship  were  Judas — if  he 
was  a  man  of  acknowledged  ability  and  consid- 
erable influence,  whom  no  one  at  the  time  had 
the  slightest  reason  to  suspect,  who  was  wel- 
comed by  all  the  other  disciples,  and  commend- 
ed by  them  to  their  Master  as  a  most  desirable 
associate — if  the  rejection  of  such  a  man  in 
such  circumstances  would  have  seemed  to  be 
an  act  of  caprice  without  known  or  apparent 
reason,  this  might  serve  perhaps  in  some  slight 
degree  to  explain  to  us  how  Judas  came  at  first 
to  be  numbered  with  the  twelve.  Many  will 
feel  as  if  there  were  something  like  profanity  in 
any  conjecture  of  this  kind,  and  all  will  be  satis- 
fied simply  to  accept  the  fact  that  Jesus  chose 
those  twelve  men,  and  yet  that  one  of  them 
was  a  devil. 

Was  it  by  simple  designation  to  the  office 
without  any  form  or  ceremony  ?  or  was  it  by 
laying  of  Christ's  hand  solemnly  on  the  head  of 
each,  then  gathering  the  circle  round  him  and 
offering  up  a  consecration  prayer,  that  the 
apostles  were  set  apart?  We  cannot  tell.  It 
is  surely  singular,  however,  that  the  manner  of 
the  ordination  of  the  apostles  by  our  Lord  him- 
self, in  like  manner  as  the  ordination  of  the 
first  presbyters  or  bishops  of  the  Church  by  the 


68  The  Seemon 

apostles,  should  have  been  left  unnoticed  and 
undescribed. 

The  ordination  over,  Jesus  descended  to  a 
level  spot,  either  between  the  two  summits  or 
lying  at  their  base.*  The  day  had  now  ad- 
vanced, and  the  great  multitude  that  had  fol- 
lowed him,  apprised  of  his  place  of  retreat, 
poured  in  upon  him,  bringing  their  diseased 
along  with  them.  He  stood  for  a  time  healing 
all  who  were  brought  to  him.  Retreating  then 
again  to  the  mountain-side,  he  sat  down.  His 
disciples  seated  themselves  immediately  around 
him,  and  the  great  multitude  stood  or  sat  upon 
the  level  ground  below. 

Such  were  the  circumstances  under  .which 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  delivered.  It 
may  have  been  the  first  discourse  of  the  kind 
which  St.  Matthew  had  heard  ;  all  the  more 
natural,  therefore,  that  he  should  have  been 
directed  to  preserve  so  full  a  record  of  it.  We 
have  no  authority  for  saying  that  it  was  actu- 
ally the  first  formal  and  lengthened  address 
delivered  by  our  Lord.  Many  other  longer  or 
shorter  discourses,  to  smaller  or  larger  audi- 
ences, may  Jesus  have  spoken  during  this 
period  of  his  ministry.     But  this  was  the  one 

*  Luke  vi.  17. 


On  the  Mount.  *  69 

selected  by  Divine  Wisdom  to  be  presented  as 
a  specimen!  or  sample  of  our  Lord's  teaching, 
as  addressed  to  mixed  Galilean  audiences  in 
the  earlier  stages  of  his  ministry.  There  was  a 
change  in  his  mode  of  teaching  afterwards,  even 
in  Galilee,  as  there  was  a  marked  difierence 
between  all  his  discourses  there,  and  those  ad- 
dressed to  very  different  audiences  in  Jeru- 
salem. Here  upon  the  mount  he  had  a  vast 
concourse  of  people  of  all  castes  and  from  all 
quarters  before  him.  Nearest  to  him  were  his 
own  disciples.  To  them  his  words  were  in  the 
first  instance  spoken,  but  they  were  meant  to 
reach  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  the  motley 
crowd  that  lay  beyond. 

Now,  if  there  was  one  sentiment  spread  more 
widely  than  another  throughout  this  crowd,  it 
was  the  vague  yet  ardent  expectation,  beating 
then  in  almost  every  Jewish  breast,  of  some 
great  national  deliverance — of  the  near  ap- 
proach of  a  new  kingdom — the  kingdom  of  God. 
Of  this  kingdom  they  had  no  higher  conception 
than  that  it  would  be  a  free  and  independent 
outward  and  visible  Jewish  monarchy.  And 
when  it  came,  then  should  come  the  days  of  lib- 
erty and  peace,  of  honor  and  triumph,  and  all 
kinds  of  blessedness  for  poor  oppressed  Judea 


70  The  Sermon 

With  what  a  dehcate  hand — not  openly  and 
rudely  rebuking,  yet  laying  the  axe  withal  at 
its  very  roots — was  this  deep  national  prejudice 
now  treated  by  our  Lord.  What  could  have 
run  more  directly  counter  to  the  earthly  ambi- 
tious hopes,  swelling  up  within  the  hearts  of 
those  around  him?  what  could  have  served  more 
etfectually  to  check  them,  than  the  very  first 
words  which  Jesus  uttered  ?  "  Blessed  are  the 
poor  in  spirit :  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  :  for  they 
fihall  be  comforted.  Blessed  are  the  meek  :  for 
they  shall  inherit  the  earth.  Blessed  are  they 
which  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness  : 
for  they  shall  be  filled.  Blessed  are  the  merci- 
ful :  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy.  Blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart :  for  they  shall  see  God. 
Blessed  are  the  peacemakers  :  for  they  shall  be 
called  the  children  of  God.  Blessed  are  they 
which  are  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake  : 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Blessed 
are  ye,  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  perse- 
cute you,  and  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  against 
you  falsely,  for  my  sake,  llejoice,  and  be  ex- 
ceeding glad :  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven , 
for  so  persecuted  they  the  prophets  that  were 
before  you."     How  different  the  kind  of  bless- 


On  the  Mount.  71 

edness  thus  described  from  that  which  his  hear- 
ers had  been  hungering  and  thirsting  after ! 
How  different  the  kind  of  kingdom  thus  de- 
scribed from  that  wliich  they  had  been  expect- 
ing he  should  set  up  !  And,  apart  from  their 
special  use  and  immediate  service  as  addressed 
of  old  to  the  Galilean  audience,  these  beati- 
tudes remain  to  teach  us  wherein  the  only  true, 
pure,  lasting  blessedness  for  man  consists ;  not 
in  anything  outward,  not  in  the  gratification  of 
any  of  our  natural  passions  or  desires,  our  cov- 
etousness,  or  our  pride,  or  our  ambition,  or  our 
love  of  pleasure ;  not  in  what  we  have,  but  in 
what  we  are  in  God's  sight  and  in  relation  to 
his  empire  over  our  souls.  The  poor  in  spirit, 
those  most  deeply  conscious  of  their  spiritual 
poverty,  their  want  of  that  which  can  alone  find 
favor  with  God  ;  the  mourners  whose  grief  is 
the  fruit  of  guilt  and  unvvorthiness  realized  and 
deeply  felt  ;  the  meek,  who  bow  patiently  and 
submissively  to  every  stroke,  whoever  be  the 
smiter  ;  the  hungerers  and  thirsters  after  right- 
eousness, the  pure  in  heart,  the  peace-makers, 
the  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake — do  we 
regard  these  as  the  happiest  of  our  race  ?  is 
theirs  the  kind  of  happiness  upon  which  our 
heart  is  chiefly  set,  and  which  we  are  laboring 


72  The  Sermon 

with  our  utmost  efforts  to  realize  ?  If  not,  how- 
ever ready  we  may  be  to  extol  the  pure  and 
high  morality  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  we 
have  failed  to  take  in  the  first  and  one  of  great- 
est truths  which  it  conveys,  as  to  the  source, 
and  seat,  and  character,  and  conditions  of  the 
only  abiding  and  indestructible  blessedness  of 
sinful  man. 

But  while  the  multitude  were  cherishing  false 
ideas  and  expectations  about  his  kingdom,  many 
were  cherishing  false  ideas  and  fears  about 
Christ  himself  that  equally  required  to  be  re- 
moved. They  had  noticed  in  his  teaching  the 
absence  of  any  reference  to  many  of  those  re- 
ligious services  that  they  so  punctiliously  per- 
formed, some  disregard  of  them  in  his  own  prac- 
tice and  in  that  of  his  disciples.  This  man,  they 
began  to  say,  is  an  enemy  to  Moses.  He  is  aim- 
ing at  nothing  short  of  a  subversion  of  the  old, 
the  heaven-given  law.  Jesus  must  proclaim 
how  untrue  the  accusation  was.  "Think  not," 
he  said,  "  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law,  or 
the  prophets :  I  am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to 
fulfill.  For  verily  I  say  unto  you,  Till  heaven 
and  earth  pass,  one  jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  no 
wise  pass  from  the  law,  till  all  be  fulfilled." 

But  in  what  did  the  true  fulfillment  of  the 


On  the  Mount.  73 

Mosaic  law  consist  ?  It  was  a  vast  and  compli- 
cated code,  embracing  a  body  of  laws  for  a 
peculiar  people,  existing  at  a  particular  period, 
and  organized  for  a  special  purpose  ;  subject, 
therefore,  to  all  the  limitations  and  exhibiting 
all  the  adaptations  to  existing  circumstances 
which,  in  proportion  to  the  wisdom  with  which 
it  is  framed,  all  such  legislation  must  display. 
It  had  in  it  commands  of  a  purely  ethical  and 
religious  character,  conveyed  in  more  general 
and  abstract  forms  ;  and  it  had  in  it  a  large 
apparatus  of  positive  enactments  and  ordinances 
chiefly  meant  to  symbolize  the  truths  and  facts 
of  the  Christian  dispensation.  It  was  not 
throughout  an  expression  of  God's  absolute 
will,  perfect,  immutable,  meant  to  be  of  perma- 
nent and  .universal  obligation.  Part  of  it,  per- 
fectly adapted  to  its  design,  was  inherently 
imperfect ;  part  of  it  as  necessarily  transitory. 
When  the  time  came  that  the  Jewish  nation 
should  either  cease  to  exist  or  cease  to  have  its 
old  functions  to  discharge,  and  when  all  its 
types  and  ceremonies  had  their  true  meaning 
expressed  and  their  ends  accomplished — then 
out  of  this  complicated  law  there  would  come 
to  be  extracted  that  which  was  absolutely  per- 
fect and  universall}^  obligatory.     Jesus   knew 


74  The  Seemon 

that  at  his  advent  that  time  had  come,  and 
assuming  the  very  place  and  exercising  the 
very  prerogative  of  the  Divine  Legishitor  of 
the  Jews,  he  begins  in  this  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  to  execute  this  task.  He  treats  the  old 
Jewish  practice  of  divorce  as  imperfect,  being 
adapted  to  a  single  nation  at  a  particular  stage 
of  its  moral  training,  and  lays  down  the  original 
and  perfect  law  of  the  marriage  relationship. 
In  like  manner  he  deals  with  the  lex  taUonis — 
the  rule  of  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth,  and  with  the  law  and  custom  as  to 
oaths.  But  it  is  especially  in  his  treatment  of 
those  commandments  about  whose  permanent 
obligation  there  was  and  could  be  no  doubt, 
that  the  novelty  and  value  of  his  teaching  dis- 
played itself.  These  were  negative  and  pro- 
hibitory in  their  form.  Thou  shalt  not  kill, 
Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery,  etc.  etc.  They 
had  been  looked  at  in  the  letter  rather  than  in 
the  spirit.  They  had  been  regarded  simply  as 
prohibitions  of  certain  outward  acts  or  crimes. 
Abstinence  from  the  forbidden  deeds  had  been 
taken  as  a  keeping  of  the  Divine  commands. 
Obedience  had  thus  come  to  be  looked  upon  as 
a  thing  of  outward  constraint  or  mechanical 
conformity,  its  merit  lying  in  the  force  of  the 


On  the  Mount.  75 

constraint,  the  exactness  of  the  conformity.  It 
was  thus  that  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  consisted  mainly  in  a  stiff  and 
formal  adherence  to  the  letter  of  the  precept, 
to  the  neglect  often,  and  sometimes  to  the  con- 
tradiction of  its  spirit.  This  fatal  error  Christ 
exposes,  taking  up  commandment  after  com- 
mandment, unfolding  the  spirituality  and  ex- 
tent of  the  requirement,  showing  how  it  reached 
not  simply  or  mainly  to  the  regulation  of  the 
outward  conduct,  but  primarily  and  above  all 
things  to  the  state  of  the  heart  ;  that  murder 
lay  in  embryo  in  an  angry  feelmg,  that  adultery 
lurked  in  a  licentious  look,  that  it  was  not 
alone  when  the  name  of  God  was  vainly  used 
that  irreverence  might  be  exhibited  and  pro- 
fane swearing  practised,  that  the  old  Jewish 
rule  of  retaliation  was  no  rule  for  the  regula- 
tion of  the  affections  or  the  guidance  of  the 
conduct  in  a  pure  and  perfect  state,  that  from 
the  heart  every  sentiment  of  malice  or  revenge 
must  be  banished,  and  in  the  conduct  the  evU 
done  to  us  by  another  remain  unresented,  una- 
venged, the  enemy  to  be  loved,  the  persecutor 
to  be  prayed  for  ;  and  all  this  done  that  we 
might  be  merciful  as  our  Father  that  is  in 
heaven   is   merciful,  perfect  as   he  is  perfect, 


76  The  Sekmon 

children  of  him  who  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on 
the  evil  and  on  the  good,  and  sendeth  his  rain 
on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 

This  end  and  aim  of  being  like  to,  of  being 
imitators  of  God,  was  one  too  pure,  too  high, 
too  holy  to  suffer  corruption  and  the  worm  to 
enter  into  it  by  admixture  with  the  selfish  and 
ignoble  motive  of  courting  human  approval, 
winning  human  applause.  Too  much  of  the 
almsgiving  and  the  fasting  and  the  praying  that 
he  saw  practised  around  him  was  done  to  be 
seen  of  men,  prompted  by  no  other  motive, 
was  nothing  but  hypocrisy,  utterly  offensive  to 
his  Father  in  heaven.  Concealed  and  unosten- 
tatious let  the  givmgs  and  the  fastings  be,  short 
and  simple  and  secret  the  prayers  of  those  who 
would  be  his  disciples  and  true  children  of  his 
Father,  whom  seeing  in  secret  he  would  in  due 
time  openly  reward. 

Let  all  be  done  as  unto  him  with  an  undivid- 
ed allegiance,  for  no  man  can  serve  two  mas- 
ters ;  and  with  an  unbounded  trust,  for,  having 
such  a  Father,  why  should  there  be  any  over- 
carefulness  for  earthly  things — those  things  that 
He  knows  we  have  need  of,  or  any  undue  con- 
cern about  a  future  which  is  not  ours  but  his  ? 
Why  so  anxious  about  food  and  raiment  ?    It 


On  the  Mount.  77 

is  God  who  sustains  the  life  of  the  body  ;  you 
must  trust  him  for  that — the  greater  thing ; 
then  why  distrust  him  for  the  less?  Behold 
the  fowls  of  the  air  ;  consider  the  lilies  of  the 
field  ;  look  at  the  grass  that  grows  beneath 
your  feet.  Not  theirs,  as  yours,  the  capacity 
for  trust  and  toil  and  foresight.  A  worthless 
fleeting  existence  theirs  as  compared  with 
yours  ;  yet  see  how  they  are  not  only  cared 
for  but  lavishly  adorned.  "  Take,  therefore, 
no  thought  for  the  morrow  ;  for  the  morrow 
shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself.  Suf- 
ficient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  But 
seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his 
'  righteousness ;  and  all  these  things  shall  be 
added  unto  you." 

Conscious  of  your  own  far  shortcomings  from 
that  perfect  confidence  you  should  cherish — 
that  constant  service  you  should  be  rendering, 
be  not  severe  in  criticising  or  condemning 
others.  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged. 
"  Why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy 
brother's  eye,  and  considerest  not  the  beam 
that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ?  Thou  hypocrite  ; 
first  cast  out  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye, 
and  then  shalt  thou  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the 
mote  out  of  thy  brother's  eye." 


78  The  Sermon 

It  may  be  very  difficult  to  be  all,  to  do  all 
that  I  am  now  telling  you  you  ought  to  be  and 
to  do  ;  but  is  there  not  an  open  and  efiectual 
way  for  having  every  felt  spiritual  want  re- 
heved  ?  "  Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  you,  seek 
and  3'-e  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you."  "Ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to 
give  good  gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much 
more  shall  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven 
give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him  ?" 

Drawing  from  the  exhaustless  fountain  of 
grace  and  strength  that  in  him  is  opened  to 
you,  fear  not  to  adopt  this  as  the  one  compre- 
hensive rule  of  your  whole  bearing  and  con- 
duct toward  others.  "  All  thmgs  whatsoever 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye 
even  so  to  them  :  for  this  is  the  law  and  the 
prophets." 

Before  the  days  of  Christ  there  was  a  great 
Jewish  teacher,  Hillel.  An  inquirer  once  came 
to  him  asking  the  strange  question  :  "  Can  you 
teach  one  the  whole  law  during  the  time  that 
I  am  able  to  stand  on  one  foot  ?"  "  Yes,"  said 
Hillel,  "  it  is  contained  in  this  one  rule  :  What- 
soever ye  would  not  wish  that  your  neighbor 
should  do  to  you,  do  it  not  to  him."  This  and 
other  sayings  of  preceding  Rabbis  have  been 


On  the  Mount.  79 

quoted  with  a  view  of  detracting  somewhat 
from  the  originahty  of  the  moral  teaching  of 
Clirist.  Yet  even  here,  while  the  resemblance 
between  the  lessons  taught  is  so  marked,  one 
grand  difference  may  be  discerned — a  differ- 
ence that  runs  through  so  large  a  part  of  the 
Saviour's  precepts  as  compared  with  those  of 
all  other  moral  legislators.  He  translates  the 
negative  into  the  positive.  With  him  it  is  not 
■ — be  not,  do  not ;  but,  be  and  do.  In  a  few 
instances  are  any  specific  rules  of  conduct  laid 
down.  To  plant  the  right  spirit  and  motive  in 
the  heart,  out  of  which  all  true  morality  pro- 
ceeds, is  the  great  object  He  aims  at.  Look 
up  to  God,  he  says  to  us,  as  indeed  your  Father 
— ever  living,  ever  loving,  patiently  bearing 
with  you,  largely  providing  for  you,  willing  to 
forgive  you.  Walk  humbly,  meekly,  trustingly 
before  him.  Commit  your  way  to  him,  cast  all 
your  cai-e  on  him,  seek  all  your  supplies  from 
him,  render  all  your  returns  to  him.  Look 
upon  all  your  fellow-men  as  children  of  the 
same  father,  members  of  the  same  family. 
Love  each  other,  and  live  together  as  brethren, 
bearing  yourselves  towards  all  around  you  pa- 
tiently, forgivingly,  generously,  hopefully.  The 
gate  thus  opened  is  strait,  the  way  is  narrow, 


80  The  Sermon 

but  it  is  the  only  one  that  leadeth  unto  life. 
And  finally,  remember  that  it  is  practice,  not 
profession,  that  can  alone  conduct  you  along 
the  path  to  the  throne  in  heaven.  Hear  then, 
and  do,  that  ye  may  be  like  the  wise  man  who 
built  his  house  upon  a  rock,  "  and  the  rain  de- 
scended, and  the  floods  came,  and  the  winds 
blew  and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it  fell  not, 
for  it  was  founded  upon  a  rock." 

Such  is  a  rapid,  imperfect  sketch  of  the  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount,  regarded  mainly  from  a 
historical  point  of  view,  in  its  bearings  upon 
the  audience  to  which  it  was  originally  ad- 
dressed. The  people  who  first  heard  it,  we  are 
told,  were  astonished  at  its  doctrine.  Well 
th^y  might.  It  was  so  different  from  what 
they  had  been  accustomed  to.  No  labored 
argument,  no  profound  discussion,  no  doubtful 
disputation,  no  nice  distinctions,  no  scheme  of 
doctrines  formally  and  elaborately  propounded, 
no  exact  routine  of  religious  services  prescribed. 
It  dealt  with  the  simplest,  plainest  moral  and 
religious  truths  and  duties  ;  and  did  this  in  the 
simplest,  plainest  manner ; — directly,  familiarly, 
colloquially — a  freshness  about  it  like  that  of 
the  morning  breeze  which  played  over  the 
mountain-side.     The  thing,  however,  that  seems 


On  the  Mount.  81 

to  have  struck  the  hsteners  most  was  the  calm, 
unhesitatmg,  authoritative  tone  in  which  the 
whole  was  uttered.  "They  were  astonished 
at  his  doctrine  :  for  he  taught  them  as  one 
having  authority,  and  not  as  the  Scribes." 
Here  is  One  who  comes  forth  from  none  of 
the  great  schools, — who  has  sat  at  the  feet  of 
none  of  the  great  masters, — who  uses  no  book 
language, — who  appeals  to  no  authority  but  his 
own — a  young  untaught  Nazarene  ;  and  yet  he 
takes  it  upon  him  to  pronounce  with  the  ut- 
most confidence  as  to  who  the  truly  blessed 
are,  and  reckons  among  them  those  who  were 
to  be  railed  at  and  -persecuted  for  his  sake. 
Here  is  One  who  does  not  shrink  from  taking 
into  his  hands  the  law  and  the  prophets,  acting 
not  simply  as  their  expositor — the  clearer  of 
them  from  all  false  traditional  interpretations. 
He  is  bold  enough  to  say  that  he  came  to  fulfill 
them  ;  in  one  remarkable  instance,  at  least — 
that  of  the  law  which  permitted  divorce — 
speaking  as  the  original  lawgiver  was  alone 
entitled  to  do,  declaring  that  the  time  for  this 
permission  had  now  ceased,  and  that  hence- 
forth such  divorces  as  Moses  had  tolerated  were 
not  to  be  allowed.  Here  is  One  who  speaks 
of  God  as  one  who  fully  knew,  and  had  a  right 


82  The  Sermon 

to  declare,  how  his  children  were  to  act  so  as  to 
please  him  ;  whom  he  would  forgive,  whom  he 
would  reward,  upon  whom  he  would  bestow 
his  gifts.  Here  is  One  who,  though  seated  on 
that  Galilean  mountain,  with  nothing  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  humble  fishermen  around 
him,  speaks  of  a  day  on  which  he  should  be 
seated  on  the  throne  of  universal  judgment, 
to  whom  many  should  say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  have 
we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name  ?  and  in  thy 
name  have  cast  out  devils  ?  and  in  thy  name 
done  many  wonderful  works?" — to  whom  he 
was  to  reply,  "I  never  knew  you:  depart 
from  me,  ye  that  work  iniquity," 

In  consequence  of  the  simplicity,  purity,  and 
elevation  of  the  moral  precepts  which  it  con- 
tains, and  still  more,  perhaps,  because  of  none 
of  the  pecuUar  doctrines  as  to  the  person,  char- 
acter, office,  and  work  of  Christ  as  the  Mediator 
being  found  in  it,  this  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
has  been  greedily  seized  upon  and  highly  ex- 
tolled by  many  as  the  true  epitome  of  Chris- 
tianity— as  Christ's  own  gospel,  coming  from  his 
own  hps.  But  it  is  far  less  difficult  for  us  to 
discern  the  reasons  why  the  truths  of  the  incar- 
nation and  the  propitiatory  sacrifice  were  not 
at  this  time  and  to  that  audience  alluded  to  or 


On  the  Mount.  83 

dwelt  upon  by  Jesus,  than  it  is  for  any  who 
would  reduce  him  to  the  level  of  a  mere  moral 
legislator  to  account  for  the  position  which, 
even  when  enunciating  the  simplest  moral  pre- 
cepts, he  assumed — for  the  tone  of  authority  in 
which  he  speaks.  Dimly,  indeed,  through  this 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  does  the  Jesus  of  the 
Cross  appear,  but  the  Jesus  of  the  Throne  is 
here,  and  once  that  we  have  learned  from  other 
after-teachings  of  himself  and  his  Apostles  to 
know,  and  love,  and  trust  in  him  as  our  great 
High  Priest,  who  has  bought  us  with  his  blood, 
it  will  be  the  habit  and  delight  of  every  true 
and  faithful  follower  of  his  to  take  up  and  dwell 
upon  that  wonderful  discourse,  in  which,  more 
clearly  and  fully  than  in  any  other  words  of 
human  speech,  the  very  spirit  and  essence  of  a 
humble  child-like  faith  in  God,  and  the  lofty 
ideal  of  a  perfect,  a  heavenly  morality,  is  un- 
folded and  enforced. 


V. 

the  raising  of  the  widow 's  son  and  the 
ruler's  daughter.* 

THE  multitude  that  listened  to  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  followed  Jesus  from  the 
hill-side  into  Capernaum,  thronging  round  the 
house  into  which  he  entered,  and  pressing  their 
sick  so  urgently  on  his  notice  that  he  "could 
not  so  much  as  eat  bread."  A  mode  of  life  like 
this, — out  all  night  upon  the  mountain  top, 
teaching,  walking,  working  all  day  long  without 
food  or  rest, — so  affected  the  minds  of  his  im- 
mediate relatives  when  they  heard  of  it  that 
they  "went  out  to  lay  hold  of  him,  for  they 
said.  He  is  beside  hunself."  Failing  in  their 
endeavors,  they  left  him  to  pursue  his  eccentric 
course. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  the  busy  day  which 
followed  the  delivery  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  that  the  centurion's  servant  was  healed, 

•  Luke  Yii.  11-17  ;  viii.  41-56  ;  Matt.  ix.  18-26  ;  Mark  v.  22-43. 


The  Kaising  of  the  Widow's  Son.         85 

« 

and  the  opportunity  was  thereby  given  to  Jesus 
to  hold  up  to  the  eyes  of  the  people  an  exam- 
ple of  such  faith  as  he  had  not  found — no,  not 
in  Israel.  On  the  following  day  he  left  Caper- 
naum. ''Many  of  his  disciples  and  much  peo- 
ple" went  with  him.  They  had  a  long  day's 
walk  over  the  hills  of  Galilee,  skirting  the  base 
of  Tabor,  and  descending  into  the  valley  ot 
Esdraelon.  The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west, 
away  behind  the  ridge  of  Carmel,  and  was  gild- 
ing with  his  evening  beams  the  slopes  of  little 
Hermon,  as  Jesus  and  the  band  which  followed 
him  approached  the  village  of  Nain.  This  vil- 
lage is  now  a  confused  heap  of  the  rudest  Syrian 
huts,  unenclosed,  with  no  ruins  of  ancient  build- 
ings, nor  any  antiquities  around,  save  the  tombs 
in  the  rock  upon  the  hill-side,  where  for  ages 
they  have  buried  the  dead.  And  yet  it  stands 
next  to  Nazareth  and  Bethlehem  and  Bethany 
in  the  sacred  interest  attached  to  it.  We  are 
so  sure  of  its  identity,  it  is  so  small,  so  isolated, 
having  nothing  but  the  one  wonderful  incident 
to  mark  its  history,  that  the  Saviour's  hving 
presence  was  almost  as  vividly  realized  by  us 
when  entering  it  as  when  we  sat  by  the  side  of 
Jacob's  well.  We  stood  at  the  end  of  the  vil- 
lage which  looks  northward  towards   Galilee, 


86         The  Kaising  of  the  "Widow's  Son 

and  tried  to  recall  the  scene.  Jesus  and  his 
train  of  followers  have  crossed  the  plain,  and 
are  drawing  near  to  the  village.  Another  com- 
pany moves  slowly  and  sadly  out  of  its  gate 
and  meets  them.  It  is  a  funeral  procession  ; 
a  large  one,  for  all  the  villagers  have  come 
forth,  but  there  is  no  mark  or  token  that  it  is 
the  funeral  of  one  who  had  been  rich  or  in  any 
way  distinguished.  The  bier  is  of  the  plainest, 
and  there  follows  it  as  chief  mourner  a  solitary 
woman,  clad  in  humblest  guise.  Jesus  has 
none  beside  him,  as  he  stops  and  looks,  to  tell 
him  who  this  woman  is — who  the  dead  for 
whom  she  mourns.  He  does  not  need  the  in- 
formation ;  he  knows  her  history  ;  he  knows 
her  grief  better  than  any  inhabitant  of  Nain. 
To  his  eye  it  is  a  becoming  and  beautiful  thing 
that  grief  like  hers  should  have  such  homage 
paid  to  it,  should  have  drawn  the  whole  village 
out  after  her  by  the  pure  force  of  sympathy. 
Her  claim,  indeed,  upon  that  sympathy  is  strong. 
This  is  not  the  first  bier  she  has  followed.  She 
had  wept  for  another  before  she  wept  for  him 
whom  they  are  now  carrying  to  the  grave.  She 
is  a  widow — weeping  now  behind  the  bier  of 
her  only  son.  Bereft  of  every  earthly  stay  she 
wilks,  a  picture  of  perfect  desolation. 


And  the  Eulee's  Daughter.  87 

"  And  when  the  Lord  saw  her  he  had  com- 
passion on  her."  As  soon  as  his  eye  rests  on 
her  his  heart  fills  full  of  pity.  Was  this  the 
first  funeral  he  had  ever  met  in  the  wayside 
along  with  his  disciples?  Was  this  the  first 
mourner  he  had  ever  noticed  go  weeping  thus 
behind  the  dead  ?  It  may  not  have  been  so  ; 
yet  never  perhaps  before  had  he  seen  a  poor 
lone  widowed  mother  shed  such  bitter  tears 
over  the  death  of  an  only  son.  The  sight 
moves  him  at  least  to  do  what  he  had  never 
done  before.  He  goes  up  to  the  woman,  and 
says  to  her  "  Weep  not  J'  Wrapped  up  in  her 
consuming  grief,  how  surprised  she  must  have 
been  at  being  accosted  in  such  a  way  at  such  a 
time.  Does  this  stranger  mean  to  mock  her, 
to  deal  rudely  with  her  in  her  grief?  In  any 
other  she  might  have  been  ready  to  repel  and 
resent  the  unseasonable  intrusion — the  strange, 
unreasonable  speech  ;  but  there  is  something 
in  the  loving,  pitying  eye  that  looks  at  her  as 
she  glances  at  him  timidly  through  her  tears — 
something  of  hope,  of  promise,  of  assurance  in 
the  gentle  yet  authoritative  tones  of  his  voice 
that  quenches  all  disposition  to  repel  or  resent. 
But  why  does  Christ  first  say  to  her — Weep 
not?     Does  he  not  know  what  he  is  about  to 


88         The  Kaising  of  the  Widow's  Son 

do?  Does  he  not  know  that  within  a  few  min- 
utes that  will  be  done  by  him  which,  without 
any  bidding  on  his  part,  will  dry  up  all  her 
tears  ?  He  does  ;  but  he  cannot  go  forward 
to  his  great  act  without  yielding  to  the  impulse 
of  pity ;  dropping  into  the  ear  of  the  mourner 
— ^not  as  a  cold  word  of  command,  fitted  only 
to  give  needless  pain,  but  as  a  spontaneous  ex- 
pression of  his  warm  personal  compassion — the 
words,  "Weep  not."  Such  a  preface  to  the 
miracle  speaks  to  us  as  plainly  of  the  tender- 
ness of  Christ's  sympathy  as  the  miracle  itself 
proclaims  thp  infinitude  of  his  power. 

"And  he  came  and  touched  the  bier,  and 
they  that  bore  him  stood  still."  And  all  stand 
as  still  as  the  bearers  ;  the  two  groups,  the  one 
from  Capernaum  and  the  other  from  Nain,  lost 
in  wonder  as  to  what  is  to  happen  next.  All 
eyes  turn  upon  Jesus.  His  turn  upon  the  bier. 
The  silence  is  broken  by  the  simple  majestic 
words,  "Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee.  Arise." 
The  young  man  rises,  looks  about  with  wonder, 
begins  to  speak.  Jesus  takes  him  by  the  hand, 
lifts  him  from  the  bier,  delivers  him  to  his 
mother.  The  deed  of  mercy  is  done,  and 
nothing  more  is  told,  but  that  a  great  fear 
came  upon  all.     "  And  they  glorified  God,  say- 


Aot)  the  Eiiler's  Daughter.  89 

ing,  That  a  great  prophet  is  risen  up  among 
us'';'  and,  That  God  hath  visited  his  people. 
And  this  rumor  of  him  went  forth  throughout 
lu  Judea,  and  throughout  aU  the  region  round 

about." 

It  was  a  few  days  or  weeks  before  or  after 
this   incident  (for  the  date  is   uncertain)  that 
one  of  the  rulers  of  the  synagogue  at  Caper- 
naum, Jairus  by  name,  came  to  Jesus  as  he  sat 
at  meat  in  the  house  of  Levi,  and  "  cast  him- 
self at  his  feet,  and  worshipped  him,  and  be- 
sought him  greatly,  saying,  My  little  daughter 
lieth  at  the  point  of  death  ;  come   and  lay  thy 
hands  upon  her,  that  she  may  be  healed,  and 
she  shall  live."     Jesus  arose  at  once  and  went 
with  Jairus  ;   so  did  his  disciples,  and  so  did 
much  people  ;  the  very  promptness  of  Christ's 
compliance  with  the  ruler's  request  stimulating 
their  curiosity. 

The  distance  could  not  have  been  great  from 
the  house  of  Levi  to  that  of  Jairus,  and  might 
speedily  have  been  traversed,  but  the  crowd 
that  thronged  around  Jesus  by  the  way  some- 
what impeded  the  movement.  It  gave,  how- 
ever, to  one  poor  woman  the  opportunity  she 
had  long  been  seeking.  Twelve  long  years  she 
had  been  a  suflerer,  her  illness  one  that  made 


90        The  Eaising  of  the  Widow's  Son 

her  very  touch  pollution.  All  she  had  she  had 
spent  upon  physicians.  It  seemed  rather  to 
have  aggravated  her  complaint.  Seeing  or 
hearing  about  Jesus,  a  belief  in  the  healing  vir- 
tue that  lay  in  him  had  taken  possession  of  her 
mind.  Her  timidity,  her  sense  of  shame,  kept 
her  from  going  openly  to  him,  telling  him  of  her 
malady,  and  asking  him  to  exert  his  power  on 
her  behalf.  But  if  she  could  in  any  way  un- 
seen get  at  him,  if  she  could  but  touch  his  clothes, 
she  felt  that  she  should  be  made  whole.  And 
now  he  goes  through  this  great  crowd.  It  is 
the  very  occasion  she  has  been  seeking  for,  and 
she  seizes  it :  gets  behind  him,  presses  through 
the  people,  and  touches  the  hem  of  his  outer 
garment.  She  is  instantly  healed,  but  as  instant- 
ly  arrested.  The  touch  has  scarce  been  given, 
the  healing  scarce  effected,  when  Jesus  turns 
round  and  says,  "Who  touched  my  clothes? 
They  all  den}^  the  deed.  Peter  expostulates 
with  his  Master.  "The  multitude,"  he  says, 
"throng  thee  and  press  thee,  and  sayest  thou, 
Who  touched  me?  Jesus  knows  as  well  as 
Peter  that  many  had  been  near  enough  for  their 
and  his  garments  to  have  come  into  contact ; 
but  he  knows,  too,  as  Peter  knew  not,  that  there 
had  been  a  touch  with  a  distinct,  deliberate  pur- 


And  the  Eulee's  Daughter.  91 

pose,  altogether  different  from  that  of  a  mere 
random  contact,  a  touch  that  had  drawn  virtue 
out  of  him.  Who  gave  it?  His  eye  looked  round 
to  see,  is  already  resting  on  the  woman,  who, 
seeing  that  she  is  not  hid,  fearing  and  trembling, 
yet  glad  and  grateful,  throws  herself  on  her 
knees  before  him,  and  the  better  of  all  her  wo- 
manly feelings,  declares  unto  him  "  before  all 
the  people  for  what  cause  she  had  touched  him, 
and  how  she  was  healed  immediately." 

Had  Jesus  been  displeased  at  being  touched  ? 
Had  he  grudged  in  any  way  that  the  virtue  had 
in  such  a  way  been  extracted  ?  Was  it  to  de- 
tect and  rebuke  a  culprit  that  he  had  challenged 
the  multitude  ?  No  :  it  was  because  he  knew 
how  very  strong  was  this  woman's  faith, —  a 
faith  sufficient  to  draw  out  at  once  in  fullest 
measure  the  healing  efficacy,  and  yet  a  faith 
that  had  in  it  a  superstitious  element,  the  fancy 
that  in  some  magical  mysterious  way  contact 
of  any  kind  established  between  her  and  Christ 
would  cure  her.  If  he  allowed  her  to  go  away 
undetected,  the  healing  filched,  as  it  were,  un- 
consciously from  the  healer,  this  fancy  might 
be  confirmed,  the  superstitious  element  in  her 
faith  enhanced.  Therefore  it  was  that  he 
would  not  suffer  the  secrecy.     He  would  meet 


92         The  Kaising  of  the  "Widow's  Son 

and  answer  the  faith  which  under  the  heavy 
pressure  and  in  despair  of  all  other  help  had 
thrown  itself  somewhat  blindly  yet  confidingly 
upon  his  aid.  But  he  will  not  allow  her  to  de- 
part without  letting  her  know  how  wrong  and 
how  needless  it  had  been  in  her  to  attempt 
concealment,  without  letting  her  and  all  around 
her  know  what  was  the  kind  of  touch  that  she 
had  given  which  had  established  the  right  con- 
nection between  her  and  him,  and  opened  the 
way  for  the  remedy  reaching  the  disease. 
**  And  he  said  unto  her,  Daughter,  be  of  good 
comfort  ;  thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole,  go 
in  peace." 

There  is  not  one  of  all  our  Saviour's  many 
miracles  of  healing  fuller  of  comfort  and  en- 
couragement. For  if  his  mode  of  dealing  with 
our  spiritual  diseases  be  shadowed  out  in  the 
modes  of  the  bodily  cures  that  he  effected, 
whenever  we  grow  sad  or  despondent  as  we 
think  how  much  of  fear,  or  shame,  or  error,  or 
weakness,  or  superstition  mingles  with  the 
faith  we  cherish,  then  let  us  remember  that  if 
only  the  depth  and  inveteracy  of  the  spiritual 
disease  be  felt,  if  with  or  without  a  long  trial  of 
them  we  have  been  led  to  despair  of  all  other 
physicians   of  the  soul,  and  to  look  alone  to 


AxD  THE  Kuler's  Daughteb.  93 

Jesus  Christ,  he  who  accepted  this  woman's 
faith  with  all  its  weakening  and  defiling  ingre- 
dients, will  not  cast  us  off.  A  timid,  trembling 
touch  of  him,  be  it  only  the  touch  of  humility 
and  trust,  will  still  bring  forth  that  healing 
virtue  which  wraps  itself  up  in  no  guarded 
seclusion,  but  delights  to  pour  itself  freely  out 
into  every  open  and  empty  receptacle  that  is 
brought  to  it. 

The  stoppage  by  the  way,  however  brief, 
must  have  been  somewhat  trying  to  Jairus,  but 
he  showed  no  impatience.  There  was  a  short 
delay,  but  with  it  a  new  proof  of  Christ's  power 
well  fitted  to  fortify  his  faith.  But  just  as  the 
healed  woman  is  sent  away,  the  messenger  ar- 
rives, who  says,  "Thy  daughter  is  dead,,  why 
troublest  thou  the  Master  any  further  ?  The 
words  were  perhaps  not  meant  for  the  ear  of 
Christ,  yet  it  caught  them  up,  and  the  moment 
it  did  so,  knowing  and  feehng  to  what  a  strain 
tlie  faith  of  Jairus  was  exposed,  and  how  much 
he  needed  to  be  assured  and  comforted,  "  as 
soon  as  Jesus  heard  the  word  that  was  spoken, 
he  saith  to  the  ruler  of  the  synagogue,  Be  not 
afraid,  only  believe."  Jairus  hears  the  reassur- 
ing words,  and,  heedless  of  the  suggestion  made, 
follows  Jesus  as  before. 


94         The  Eaisikg  of  the  Widow's  Son 

At  last  the  house  of  the  dead  is  reached. 
Jesus  suffers  none  of  his  followers  to  enter  with 
him  save  Peter,  James,  and  John,  the  three  pri- 
vileged apostles  who  were  with  him  on  the 
mount  of  his  transfiguration  and  in  the  garden 
of  his  agony,  the  three  chosen  witnesses  of  the 
highest  exercise  of  his  power,  the  fullest  display 
of  his  glory,  the  greatest  depth  of  his  sorrow. 
The  first  apartment  of  the  ruler's  liouse  is  oc- 
cupied with  those  who  fill  it  with  a  perfect  tumult 
of  bemoaning  sounds.  It  was  the  custom  to  hire 
such  mourners  on  these  occasions, — the  more 
numerous,  the  more  vehement,  the  higher  the 
station  of  the  family.  The  outward  demonstra- 
tion of  grief  that  they  here  mal^e  is  excessive, 
but  there  is  no  heart  in  all  the  sound  and  show, 
no  true  utterance  of  any  real  sorrow.  As  at 
discord  at  once  with  his  own  feeling  and  with  his 
formed  purpose,  Jesus  rebukes  the  wallers,  and 
says  to  them,  "Give  place  ;  why  make  ye  this 
ado  ?  the  damsel  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth,"  Not 
dead  ?  Can  they,  the  hired  officials,  not  tell  the 
difference  between  sleep  and  death  ?  Who  is  he 
that  speaks  to  them  so  slightingly,  so  authorita- 
tively taking  it  on  him,  stranger  though  he  be,  to 
stop  their  lamentations'?  They  "laugh  him  to 
scorn  :"  this  real  laughter  still  more  incongru-^us 


And  the  Euler's  Daughter.  95 

with  his  presence  and  his  purpose  than  the 
feigned  grief.  With  Jairus  to  second  him,  Je- 
sus puts  all  the  people  out,  takes  "the  father 
and  the  mother  of  the  damsel,  and  them  that 
were  with  him,  and  entereth  in  where  the  dam- 
sel was  lying."  He  takes  the  dead  child  by  the 
hand,  simply  says,  Talitha  cumi — damsel  arise ! 
and  she  rises,  weak  as  from  a  bed  of  illness,  yet 
with  all  the  seeds  of  the  mortal  malady  which 
had  laid  her  low  banished  from  her  frame. 
Having  directed  that  some  food  should  be  given 
her,  Jesus  straitly  charged  the  parents  that 
they  should  tell  no  man  ;  an  injunction,  let  us 
believe,  that  they  did  their  best  to  keep,  and 
yet  St.  Matthew  tells  us  "  the  fame  thereof  went 
abroad  into  all  that  land." 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  it  was  that 
Jesus  laid  such  a  stringent  injunction  of  secrecy 
upon  the  parents  in  this  instance.  Had  the 
widow's  son  not  been  raised  from  the  dead 
about  the  same  time,  and  in  circumstances  of 
the  utmost  publicity,  we  might  have  imagined 
that  there  was  a  desire  on  the  part  of  Christ  to 
throw,  for  a  time  at  least,  a  veil  over  this  par- 
ticular form  of  the  manifestation  of  his  power. 
But  though  that  other  miracle  had  not  been 
wrought,  had  this  one  stood  alone,  how  could 


96         The  Eaising  of  the  Widow's  Son 

it  be  hidden  ?  There  were  too  many  that  had 
seen  the  damsel  die,  or  mourned  over  her 
when  dead,  to  allow  of  any  concealment.  As 
we  think  of  the  difficulty,  we  might  almost  say 
impossibility  of  such  concealment,  the  thought 
occurs  (and  other  instances  in  which  the  same 
command  was  given  by  Christ  may  in  the 
same  way  be  explained)  that  it  wa.s  not  so 
much  with  any  desire  or  intention  to  secure 
secrecy  that  the  order  was  issued,  as  to  pre- 
vent those  who  had  the  closest  personal  inter- 
est in  the  miracle  being  the  first  or  the  loudest 
in  noising  it  abroad. 

There  does  not  seem  to  have  been  any  pre- 
vious acquaintance  between  Christ  and  the 
widow  of  Nain.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
she  had  ever  seen  Jesus  till  she  met  him  as  she 
was  going  out  to  bury  her  son.  We  do  not 
read  of  Jesus  ever  being  in  Nain  but  on  that 
one  occasion.  It  lay  beyond  the  line  of  those 
circuits  of  Galilee  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
making.  We  are  not  surprised,  therefore,  at 
noticing  that  his  interference  there  was  volun- 
tary, without  any  solicitation  or  hope  enter- 
tained beforehand  on  the  part  of  the  mourner. 
It  was  different  with  Jairus  at  Capernaum. 
He  was  a  well-known  man,  living  in  the  town 


And  the  Eulee's  Daughter.  97 

which  Jesus  had  chosen  as  his  headquarters  in 
GaUlee.  In  all  likelihood  he  was  one  of  the 
rulers  of  the  Jews  who  formed  the  deputation 
that  a  short  time  before  had  waited  on  Jesus 
to  ask  his  aid  on  behalf  of  the  Roman  centurion. 
It  was  quite  natural  that,  when  his  "  one  only- 
daughter  "  lay  a-dying,  he  should  apply  on  her 
account  to  Christ.  But  there  may  have  been 
in  his  character  and  connection  something  of 
which  we  are  ignorant,  which  made  it  undesir- 
able that  he  should  be  forward  in  proclaiming 
what  had  happened  in  his  house. 

It  was  a  case  of  recovery  from  the  dead^ 
about  which  there  might  be  some  cavilling. 
The  child  could  have  been  but  a  short  time 
dead  ;  long  enough,  indeed,  to  establish  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  event,  yet  not  so  long  as  to  hin- 
der any  one  from  saying  that  it  was  literally 
and  not  figuratively  true,  "She  is  not  dead, 
but  sleepeth."  In  this  respect  we  notice  a 
difference,  a  progression  in  the  three  instances 
of  raising  from  the  dead  recorded  by  the  Evan- 
gelists— that  of  Jairus's  daughter,  of  the 
widow's  son,  and  of  Lazarus.  It  is  not  dis- 
tinctly said  to  be  so  ;  but  we  presume  that 
these  were  the  only  three  cases  in  which  the 
dead  were  restored  to  hfe  by  Christ.     The  one 


98         The  Eaisinq  op  the  "Widow's  Son 

was  soon  after  death,  the  other  unmediately 
before  burial,  the  third  after  the  dead  man  had 
lain  four  days  in  the  grave — the  variety  of  the 
period  after  death  at  which  the  restoration  was 
m  each  case  effected  not,  perhaps,  without  a 
purpose.  For  these  three  great  miracles  stand, 
in  one  respect,  at  the  head  of  all  our  Lord's 
works  of  wonder.  They  were  the  highest 
instances  of  the  forth-putting  of  his  divine 
almighty  power.  With  respect  to  many  of  his 
other  works,  questions  might  be  raised  as  to 
the  nature  or  extent  of  the  power  required  for 
their  performance,  but- none  as  to  these.  Life 
in  all  its  forms,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest, 
is  that  mysterious  thing  which,  when  once 
destroyed,  none  but  the  Creator — the  great 
Life-giver — can  restore.  Were  a  dead  man 
actually  revivified  before  our  eyes,  we  could 
not  doubt  that  the  power  of  the  Omnipotent 
had  gone  forth  to  do  it.  In  no  case  did  Jesus 
Christ  so  conspicuously  and  undoubtedly  show 
himself  to  be  clothed  with  that  power  as  when 
he  raised  the  dead.  The  power,  indeed  by 
which  he  wrought  such  miracles  might  not 
have  been  naturally  his  own.  It  might  have 
been  a  delegated  power,  given  him  for  the 
time,  not  permanently  belonging  to  him.     He 


And  the  Euler's  Daughter.  99 

might  have  raised  the  dead  as  Ehjah  raised  the 
son  of  the  widow  at  Zarephath,  as  Ehsha  did 
the  son  of  the  Shunamite.  Had  it  been  so,  we 
should  have  had  some  evidence  thereof — some 
appeal  on  the  part  of  the  mere  human  agent  to 
the  great  Being  whose  power  was  for  the  moment 
lent  and  exercised.  It  was  with  trouble  and 
with  pain,  after  much  and  earnest  prayer,  that 
Elijah  and  Elisha,  the  only  raisers  of  the  dead  in 
all  the  preceding  ages,  had  succeeded.  No  one 
who  saw  or  heard  them  could  have  imagined  that 
they  claimed  any  natural  or  inherent  power  of 
their  own  over  the  dead  to  call  them  back  to 
life.  They  would  themselves  have  counted  it 
as  the  greatest  insult  to  Jehovah  to  do  so. 
How  is  it  in  this  respect  with  Jesus  Christ  ? 
Stand  beside  him  as  he  calls  the  dead  to  life. 
Look  at  the  manner  of  his  acting,  listen  to  the 
words  that  he  employs.  Is  it  as  a  servant,  the 
delegate  of  another,  that  he  speaks  and  acts? 
Is  it  with  any  consciousness  on  his  part,  felt  or 
exhibited,  that  he  was  rising  above  the  level  at 
which  he  ordinarily  stood,  that  he  was  then 
doing  something  which  he  had  been  specially 
commissioned  and  supernaturally  qualified  to 
accomplish?  Surely  there  is  nothing  more 
remarkable  about  these  raisings  from  the  dead 


100        The  Eaising  of  the  Widow's  Son 

by  Jesus  Christ  than  the  sunple,  easy,  unosten- 
tatious way  in  which  they  were  effected. 
"  Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee.  Arise  " — "  Maid, 
arise" — "Lazarus,  come  forth."  He  speaks 
thus  to  the  dead,  and  they  hear  and  hve.  It  is 
in  the  style  of  him  who  said,  Let  there  be  hght, 
and  there  was  light.  It  is  the  Lord  of  the  liv- 
ing and  of  the  dead  whose  voice  penetrates  the 
unseen  world,  and  summons  the  departed  spirit 
to  resume  its  mortal  tenement. 

But  if,  as  to  the  power  he  wields,  Jesus  never 
presents  himself  to  our  eye  in  a  diviner,  never 
does  he  show  himself  in  a  more  human  aspect 
than  in  these  raisings  from  the  dead.  Can  we 
overlook  the  fact  that  they  were  those  of  one 
only  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  the  only  daugh- 
ter, if  not  the  only  child,  of  two  fond  parents, 
the  only  brother  of  two  affectionate  sisters — of 
those  whose  loss  in  their  respective  homesteads 
would  be  so  deeply  felt,  of  those  whose  restora- 
tion qiiickened  so  acute  a  grief  into  such  an 
ecstatic  joy?  And  in  each  case  there  was 
something  quite  singular  in  the  tenderness  of 
our  Lord's  conduct  towards  the  mourners.  He 
knew  beforehand  how  speedily  the  anxiety  that 
lie  witnessed  would  be  relieved,  all  the  sorrow 
chased   away;   but   the    "weep   not"    to    the 


And  the  Kuler's  Daughter.  101 

mother  before  he  touched  the  bier,  the  "fear 
not,  only  believe,"  to  the  agitated  father,  the 
tears  that  fell  before  the  grave  of  Lazarus, 
what  a  testimony  do  they  bear  to  the  exquisite 
susceptibility  of  the  Saviour's  spirit — to  the 
quickness,  the  fullness,  the  hveliness  of  his 
sympathy  with  human  grief.  It  is  even  then, 
when  he  is  most  divine,  that  he  is  most  human 
— when  he  lifts  himself  the  highest  above  our 
level  that  he  links  himself  the  closest  to  us  as  a 
true  brother  of  our  humanity.  Such  power  to 
help,  such  readiness  and  capacity  to  sympa- 
thize, meet  but  in  one  Being. 

Many  passages  of  the  New  Testament  might 
be  quoted  which  assign  it  as  one  of  the  reasons 
of  the  Incarnation  that  there  might  be  such  a 
Being,  one  compassed  about  with  infirmities, 
one  touched  with  a  fellow-feeling  with  our  in- 
firmities, one  tempted  in  all  things  hke  as  we 
are,  a  merciful  as  well  as  a  faithful,  a  compas- 
sionate as  well  as  an  all-powerful,  all-prevalent 
High  Priest  over  the  House  of  God.  The  great 
Son  of  God,  when  he  stooped  to  become  a 
man,  did  not  become  thereby  more  merciful, 
more  kind,  more  compassionate  than  he  had 
been ;  yet  are  we  not  warranted  to  believe  that 
a  human  element  was  introduced  and  infused 


102        The  Eaising  or  the  Widow's  Son 

into  them  which  otherwise  the  mercy,  kindness, 
compassion  should  not  have  possessed  ?  If  the 
Manhood  was  a  gaiaer  by  bringing  it  intt;)  close, 
mysterious  union  with  the  Divinity,  was  there 
no  gain  to  the  Divinity  by  the  Incarnation  ? — 
not,  of  course,  a  gain  absolutely,  not  a  gain  as 
to  any  original,  essential  faculty  or  attribute  of 
the  Supreme,  but  a  gain  as  to  the  bringing  of 
the  Divine  Being  into  closer  and  more  sympa- 
thetic fellowship  with  man  ?  We  all  know  how 
difl&cult  it  is,  whatever  be  the  natural  capacity 
and  largeness  of  our  pity,  to  sympathize  fully 
and  tenderly  with  a  kind  of  trial  we  have  never 
felt.  Those  who  have  never  wept  over  any 
dead  they  loved,  can  they  enter  into  the  grief 
of  the  bereaved  ?  And  how  could  we,  but  by 
the  Incarnation,  have  had  one  who  could  enter 
as  Jesus  can  into  all  our  sorrows? 

Why  was  such  a  sympathy  as  his  provided 
for  us,  but  that  as  sinners  as  well  as  sufferers 
we  might  cast  ourselves  upon  it  for  support  ? 
Jesus  is  the  great  raiser  of  human  souls  as  well 
as  of  human  bodies.  He  quickeneth  whom  he 
will.  The  hour  has  come  when  all  that  are  in 
the  grave  of  sin,  of  spiritual  death,  may  hear 
his  voice.  That  voice  is  sounding  all  around 
us  as  in  the  ears  of  the  dead.     Awake,  it  says 


And  the  Kulee's  Daughter.  103 

to  each  of  us — awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  arise 
from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  hfe. 
Let  us  awake,  and  with  life  new-given  turn  to 
the  Life-giver ;  rejoicing  to  know  that  as  ten- 
derly as  he  handed  her  new-raised  son  to  the 
widow  of  Nain,  as  tenderly  as  he  ordered  the 
food  to  be  given  to  the  little  daughter  of  Jairus, 
so  tenderly  will  he  watch  over  the  first  stages 
of  our  spiritual  being ,  and  that  as  fully  as  the 
griefs  of  widowed  mother  and  weeping  parents 
were  shared  in  of  old  by  Him  in  Galilee,  so 
fully  will  he  share  in  all  the  griefs  of  our  earthly 
history,  till  he  takes  us  to  the  land  where  his 
own  gracious  hand  shall  wipe  off  the  tears  from 
every  eye,  and  we  shall  no  more  need  another 
to  weep  with  us  in  our  sorrows. 


VI. 


THE   EMBASSY   OF   THE   BAPTIST — THE   GREAT 
INVITATION.* 

OUR  Lord's  public  ministry  in  Galilee  be- 
gan at  the  time  that  John  had  been  cast 
into  prison,  and  had  now  continued  for  more 
than  half  a  year.  There  was  much  in  this 
ministry  which  those  disciples  of  the  Baptist 
who  kept  aloof  from  Jesus  could  not  compre- 
hend. There  was  the  entire  absence  of  that 
ascetic  rigor  and  stern  denunciation  of  all  in- 
iquity, by  which  their  Master's  character  and 
teaching  had  been  distinguished.  There  were 
no  fastings,  no  prescribed  repeated  prayers, 
there  was  the  call  of  a  publican  to  be  an  apos- 
tle, there  was  the  eating  and  drinking  with 
publicans  and  sinners.  All  this  appeared  to 
them  not  only  different  from,  but  inconsistent 

*  Matt.  zL 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  105 

with,  the  idea  of  that  kingdom,  of  whose  advent 
their  Master  had  announced  himself  as  the 
herald.  Some  of  them  carried  their  doubts  and 
difficulties  to  John  himself  in  the  prison. 
Hearing  from  them  of  the  works  of  Christ,  the 
Baptist  sent  two  of  their  number  to  Jesus, 
and  bade  them  put  to  him  the  question,  "  Art 
thou  he  that  should  come,  or  do  we  look  for 
another  ?"  As  coming  from  John  himself,  and 
meant  for  his  personal  satisfaction,  the  ques- 
tion certainly  would  imply  that  some  tempo- 
rary misgiving  had  crept  into  the  Baptist's 
mind.  It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  believe,  after 
the  revelations  made  to  him,  after  what  he  had 
heard  and  seen  at  the  baptism,  after  his  own 
repeated  public  proclamations  of  it,  that  his 
faith  in  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus  had  been 
shaken.  His  long  and  unexpected  imprison- 
ment, however,  must  have  severely  tried  his 
faith.  To  such  a  man,  from  infancy  a  child  of 
the  desert,  who  had  roamed  with  such  free 
footstep  through  the  wilderness  of  Engedi,  who, 
when  the  time  came  for  his  manifestation  to 
Israel,  had  but  exchanged  the  freedom  of  his 
mountain  solitudes  for  those  liberties  of  speech 
and  action  he  took  with  his  fellow-countrymen. 
the   months  of  his  unprisonmemt  must  have 


106  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

moved  slowly  and  drearily  along,  turning  even 
his  strength  into  weakness. 

The  chilly  damp  of  being  hurried  unexpect- 
edly from  Herod's  presence  and  his  former  open 
active  life  into  the  cheerless,  idle  solitude  of  the 
prison,  fell  all  the  chiUier  upon  his  heart  on  his 
coming  to  know  that  Jesus  had  been  apprised 
of  his  imprisonment,  and  that  yet  no  message 
of  sympathy  had  been  sent,  that  no  movement 
for  his  deliverance  was  made.  His  notions  of 
the  coming  kingdom  may  not  have  been  different 
from  those  entertained  at  the  time  by  the  apos- 
tles and  other  followers  of  Christ.  Perhaps  he 
fancied  that  at  the  setting-up  of  this  kingdom 
all  injustice,  and  oppression,  and  spiritual  wick- 
edness in  high  places  was  to  be  done  away,  the 
axe  to  be  laid  at  their  root,  the  fan  to  be  so  used 
as  thoroughly  to  purge  the  threshing-floor. 
Perhaps,  in  rebuking  Herod  as  he  did,  he 
thought  that  it  was  but  a  first  blow  dealt  at  that 
which  the  mightier  than  he  who  was  to  come 
after  him  was  wholly  to  destroy.  And  when, 
instead  of  his  expectations  being  fulfilled,  he 
was  left  unvisited,  uncheered,  unhelped ;  and 
he  heard  of  the  course  which  Jesus  was  pursu- 
ing, gathering  crowds  indeed  around  him,  but 
carefully  abstaining  from    announcing  himself 


The  Embassy  or  the  Baptist.  107 

as  the  Messiah,  or  doing  anything  towards  the 
erection  of  a  new  kingdom, — in  some  season  of 
disquietude  and  despondency,  perplexed  and 
a  httle  impatient,  sharing  their  feehngs,  and 
in  the  hope  of  at  once  reheving  their  doubts 
and  removing  his  own  misgivings,  he  sent  two 
of  his  disciples  to  put  to  him  a  question  which 
might  be  the  means  of  drawing  from  Jesus  a 
public  declaration  of  his  Messiahship,  and  of  in- 
ducing him  openly  to  inaugurate  the  new  king- 
dom.* 

The  messengers  arrived  and  delivered  their 
message  at  a  very  opportune  conjuncture.  "  In 
the  same  hour  he  cured  many  of  their  infirmities 
and  plagues,  and  of  evil  spirits  ;  and  unto  many 
that  were  blind  he  gave  sight. "f  Jesus  kept 
John's  messengers  for  a  season  near  him  instead 
of  answering  them,  going  on  with  his  healing 
work.  He  then  turned  to  them,  and  said,  "  Go 
your  way,  and  tell  John  what  things  ye  have 

*  Many  think  that  it  was  for  the  sake  of  his  disciples,  and  for 
their  sakes  alone,  that  the  Baptist  sent  them  on  this  errand,  not 
that  he  had  any  doubts  himself,  but  he  knew  they  had.  It  is  alto- 
gether likely  that  he  had  some  regard  to  their  establishment  in  a 
true  faith  in  Christ,  The  question,  however,  put  into  their  hps, 
comes  too  directly  from  himself,  and  the  answer  is  directed  too 
plainly  and  pointedly  to  him,  to  allow  us  to  shut  out  the  idea  of 
personal  rehef  and  satisfaction  being  contemplated. 

f  Luke  vii.  21. 


108  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

seen  and  heard ;  how  that  the  bhnd  see,  the 
lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear, 
the  dead  are  raised,  to  the  poor  the  Gospel  is 
preached,"  It  is  not  simply  to  the  miracles  as 
displays  of  superhuman  power  that  Jesus  ap- 
peals ;  it  is  to  their  kmd  and  character,  as  pe- 
culiarly and  prophetically  Messianic, 

Jesus  had  hitherto  refrained  from  assummg 
the  title  of  the  Messiah,  or  announcing  himself 
as  such.  John  by  his  messengers  urges  him  to 
do  so,  Christ  contents  himself  with  simply 
pointing  to  such  works  done  by  him  as  the 
Baptist  could  not  fail  to  recognize  as  a  fulfill- 
ment of  those  prophecies  of  Isaiah,  in  which 
the  days  and  doings  of  the  Messiah  were 
described.  Nor  can  we  fail  to  notice  that,  side 
by  side  with  the  greatest  of  the  miracles,  re- 
served as  the  closing  crowning  testimony  to 
the  Messiahship,  is  the  fact  that  to  the  poor  the 
Gospel  was  preached  ;  to  the  poor  as  weU  as 
the  rich,  to  no  favored  people,  class,  or  section 
of  mankind,  to  all  in  that  universal  character 
which  all  sustain  as  sinful,  responsible,  immor- 
tal. The  words  that  Jesus  added,  "And 
blessed  is  he,  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended 
in  me,"  may  have  carried  with  them  a  special 
allusion  to  the  Baptist,  while  proclaiming  the 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  109 

blessedness  of  the  man  who  was  not  offended 
at  the  patience  and  gentleness  of  Jesus,  his 
readiness  to  wait  and  to  suffer,  to  invite 
and  encourage,  rather  than  to  denounce  and  to 
punish. 

Having  given  them  what  seemed  a  sufficient 
answer,  Jesus  sent  John's  messengers  away. 
He  had  something  more,  however,  to  say  to 
the  people  that  was  not  for  the  Baptist's  ear  ; 
which  must  not  be  said  till  the  messengers 
were  gone.  What  they  had  just  seen  and 
heard  was  fitted  to  create  an  unfavorable  im- 
pression, as  if  the  faith,  or  fortitude,  or  patience 
of  John  had  utterly  given  way.  Eager  to 
shield  the  character  of  his  forerunner,  Jesus 
turned  to  the  multitude  and  said  to  them  con- 
cerning John,  "  What  went  ye  out  into  the 
wilderness  to  see  ?  A  reed  shaken  by  the 
wind  ?"  a  man  bowing  and  bending  as  the  reed 
does  before  every  passing  breeze,  a  man  fickle 
of  purpose,  changeable  in  faith,  believing  at 
Bethabara,  disbelieving  now  at  Machserus  ? 
Not  such  a  man  is  John  ;  rock-like,  not  reed- 
like— such  as  he  was  in  the  wilderness,  such  is 
he  in  Herod's  keep.  "  What  went  ye  out  to 
see  ?  A  man  clothed  in  soft  raiment  ?"  caring 
for  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  life,  or  a  man 


110       The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

who,  all  negligent  as  he  had  been  of  these  be- 
fore, feels  now  the  hair-cloth  to  be  too  hard  a 
garment,  and  would  fain  exchange  it  for  a 
softer  one  ?  Not  such  a  man  is  John.  The 
wearers  and  lovers  of  soft  raiment  you  will  find 
in  palaces,  not  in  prisons.  John  cares  as  little 
for  such  raiment  now  as  when  of  his  own  free 
will  he  chose  the  hair-cloth  as  his  garment. 
"  But  what  went  ye  out  to  see  ?  A  prophet? 
Yea,  I  say  unto  you,  and  more  than  a  prophet." 
The  only  one  among  all  the  prophets  whose 
course  and  offices  were  themselves  the  subjects 
of  prophecy  ;  whose  birth,  like  that  of  his 
Great  Master,  an  angel  was  commissioned  to 
announce  ;  his  predecessors  seeing  but  from 
afar  across  the  breadth  of  intervening  centuries, 
he,  the  friend  of  the  bridegroom,  standing  by 
the  bridegroom's  side,  his  office  such  towards 
Christ  as  to  elevate  him  to  a  height  above  any 
ever  reached  before,  yet  this  kind  of  greatness, 
one  springing  from  position  and  office,  as  local, 
external,  temporary,  not  once  to  be  mentioned 
alongside  of  that  other  kind  of'  greatness  which 
is  moral,  spiritual,  intrinsic,  eternal.  "For 
this  is  he  of  whom  it  is  written,  Behold,  I  send 
my  messenger  before  thy  face,  which  shall  pre- 
pare thy  way  before  thee.     Verily  I  say  unto 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  Ill 

you,  Among  them  that  are  born  of  woman 
there  hath  not  risen  a  greater  than  John  the 
Baptist  ;  notwithstanding  he  that  is  least  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater  than  he." 

More   than  one  pubUc  testimony  had  been 
borne  by  John  to  Jesus.     Jesus  answers  these 
by  the  witness  he  thus  bears  to  John.     But  as 
he  thinks  of  himself  in    conjunction  with  the 
Baptist,  the  strange  and  inconsistent  treatment 
that  they  respectively  had  met  with  from  the 
men   of  that  generation  presents  itself  to  his 
thoughts.*     It  is  but  seldom  that  anything  like 
criticism  or   complaint  touching  those  around 
him   comes  from  the  lips  of  Jesus.     All   the 
more  interesting  is  the  glance  that  he  here  casts, 
the  judgment  that  he  here  pronounces,  upon 
the  men  of  his  own  age  and  nation.     Addressed 
by  two  different  voices,  speaking  in  two  differ- 
ent tones,  they  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  both. 
The  rigor  of  the  law  came  to  them  in  the  mes- 
sage of  the  Baptist ;  they  took  offence  at  it. 
The  gentleness  and  love  of  the  Gospel  came  to 
them  in  the  message  of  Jesus  ;  they  took  equal 
offence  at  it  ;  justifying   in    either    case  their 
conduct  by  fixmg  on  something  in  the  charac- 


•  Matt.  xi.  16-19. 


112  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

ter  or  lives  of  each  of  the  two  messengers  which 
they  turned  into  matter  of  complaint  and  ac- 
cusation ;  guilty  of  great  unfairness  in  doing 
so,  exhibiting  the  grossest  inconsistency,  charg- 
ing opposite  excesses  upon  John  and  upon 
Jesus,  saying  of  the  one  that  he  was  too  austere 
and  ascetic,  that  he  had  a  devil — saying  of  the 
other  that  he  was  too  free  and  social,  that  he 
was  a  gluttonous  man  and  a  wine-bibber,  the 
friend  of  publicans  and  sinners.  Had  it  been 
any  other  two  of  Heaven's  chosen  messengers 
that  they  had  to  deal  with,  they  might  have 
had  less  difficulty  in  fixing  on  some  irregularity 
or  eccentricity  of  conduct  out  of  which  to  fash- 
ion the  shelter  they  sought  to  construct.  But 
that  even  with  them  they  tried  this  expedient, 
and  imagined  that  they  had  succeeded,  only 
shows  to  what  lengths  that  principle  or  ten- 
dency of  our  nature  will  go  which  seeks  to  mix 
up  the  claims  of  religion  with  the  character  of 
its  advocates. 

But  now  the  Saviour's  thoughts  pass  onward 
from  the  contemplation  of  that  folly  and  incon- 
sistency which  a  familiar  similitude  borrowed 
from  the  market-place  may  expose,  to  dwell 
more  profoundly  upon  the  conduct  of  those 
cities  wherein  most  of  his  mighty  works  were 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  113 

done.     In   endeavoring   to  follow  and  fathom 
from  this  point  onwards  the  train  of  our  Lord's 
reflections,  as  recorded  by  the  Evangelist,  we 
enter    a   region   remote    and    very   elevated. 
•'Woe   unto  thee,  Chorazin!    woe  unto  thee, 
Bethsaida !  for  if  the  mighty  works  which  were 
done  in  you,  had  been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon, 
they  would  have  repented  long  ago  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes."     "And   thou,  Capernaum,  which 
art  exalted  unto  heaven,  shah  be  brought  down 
to  hell ;  for  if  the  mighty  works,  which  have 
been  done  in  thee,  had  been  done  in  Sodom,  it 
would  have  remained  until  this  day."     Who  is 
he  who  announces  so  confidently  what  certain 
communities  would  have  done  had  they  been 
placed   in   other   circumstances  than  those  in 
which  they  actually  stood,  and  what   altered 
outward  destiny  would  have  followed  the  dif- 
ferent course  pursued !     "It  shall  be  more  tol- 
erable for  Tyre  and  Sidon  and  for  the  land  of 
Sodom  at  the  day  of  judgment  than  for  you." 
Who  is  he  who  anticipates  the  verdicts  of  eter- 
nity,   pronouncing    so    confidently   upon    the 
greater   and  the  lesser  guilt,  fore-announcing 
the  lighter  and  the  heavier  doom? 

But  now,  before  the  eye  of  the  man  Christ 
Jesus,  there  spreads  out  a  section  of  the  great 


114  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

mystery  tliat  hangs  over  this  world's  spiritual 
history.  Here  are  men — these  inhabitants  of 
Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  and  Capernaum — involved 
in  all  the  greater  guilt,  incurring  all  the  heavier 
doom,  in  consequence  of  the  presence  of  Jesus 
in  the  midst  of  them.  There  were  m^n- — those 
inhabitants  of  Sodom,  and  Tyre,  and  Sidon, 
who,  had  they  lived  in  an  after-age  and  enjoyed 
the  privileges  bestowed  upon  the  others,  would 
have  repented  and  shared  in  all  the  blessings  of 
the  heavenly  kingdom.  How  many  questions,  as 
we  stand  in  front  of  acts  like  these,  press  upon 
our  thoughts  and  rise  to  our  trembling  lips — • 
questions  touching  the  principles  and  procedure 
of  the  Divine  government  as  affecting  the  future 
and  eternal  destinies  of  our  race — questions  we 
cannot  answer,  that  it  pains  and  perplexes  us 
to  the  uttermost  even  to  entertain  ?  It  is  in 
this  very  region  that  there  comes  one  of  the 
greatest  trials  of  our  faith.  Was  there  no  trial 
of  the  like  kind  for  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  as 
he,  too,  stood  gazing  down  into  these  depths  ? 
In  what  way  or  to  what  extent  the  human 
spirit  of  our  Lord  lay  open  to  that  burden  and 
pressure  which  a  contemplation  of  the  sins  and 
sufferings  here  and  hereafter  of  so  many  of 
our  fellow-creatures  brings  down  upon  every 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  115 

thoughtful  spirit  that  has  any  of  the  tender- 
ness of  liumanity  in  it,  it  is  not  for  us  to  deter- 
mine. But  that  he  who  was  tempted  in  all 
things  like  as  we  are  did  at  this  time  feel  some- 
thing of  this  burden  and  pressure,  seems  clear 
from  the  attitude  into  which  he  immediately 
throws  himself.  "  At  that  time" — when  thouglit 
was  hovering  over  this  dark  and  awful  region 
— Jesus  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven.  Some 
light  has  broken  in  upon  that  darkness  from 
above,  drawing  his  eyes  upwards  to  its  source. 
Some  voice  from  above  has  spoken,  that  comes, 
as  his  own  came  upon  the  troubled  waters  of 
the  lake,  to  still  the  inward  agitation  of  his 
thoughts.  "  Jesus  answered  and  said,  0  Fath- 
er, Lord  of  heaven  and  earth !"  Infinitely 
wise,  infinitely  merciful,  infinitely  loving  Father, 
thou  art  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth.  The  past 
has  all  been  ordered — the  future  will  be  all  ar- 
ranged by  thee,  and  in  thy  character  and  pur- 
poses and  providence  over  all  as  at  once  the  Fa- 
ther and  the  Judge,  the  solution  lies  of  all  that 
to  created  eyes  may  seem  obscure.  "  I  thank 
thee  . .  .  that  thou  hast  hid  these  things  from 
the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them 
unto  babes."  Why  are  the  things  that  belong 
to  their  eternal  peace  hidden  from  some  and 


116  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

revealed  to  others,  hidden  from  so  many,  re- 
vealed to  comparatively  so  few  ?  One  beam 
of  light  falls  upon  the  darkness  here,  and  for 
it  the  thanks  are  given. 

It  is  not  an  arbitrary  distinction,  drawn  by  a 
capricious  hand  that  loves  to  show  its  power. 
The  fate  of  Sodom,  Tyre,  and  Sidon  was  not 
one  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  have 
evaded,  that  nothing  could  have  turned  aside. 
They  might  have  repented,  and  had  they  re- 
pented the  ruin  had  not  come.  A  thick  cloud, 
charged  with  bolts  of  vengeance,  hung  over  Cho- 
razin,  Bethsaida  and  Capernaum  because  of  their 
unbelief.  All  over  the  land  it  was  but  one  of 
a  family,  or  two  of  a  city,  who  had  welcomed 
the  Saviour  and  his  message.  The  right  inter- 
pretation of  all  this  was  not  given  by  saying 
that  it  was  by  a  divine  decree  that  had  no  regard 
to  the  character  and  conduct  of  each,  that  the 
eyes  of  some  were  blinded  and  the  eyes  of  others 
opened  to  the  heavenly  light.  It  was  from  the 
wise  and  prudent,  who  thought  themselves  so 
much  wiser  or  better  than  others,  whose  pride 
it  was  that  blinded  them,  that  the  Gospel  was 
hidden.  It  was  to  the  babes,  to  the  humble, 
the  meek,  the  teachable,  that  it  had  been  re- 
vealed.    And  it  is  not  so  much  for  the  hiding  it 


'J!he  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  117 

from  the  one  as  for  the  reveahng  it  to  the  other 
that  Jesus  here  gave  thanks.  On  two  after  oc- 
casions of  his  hfe  he  had  each  of  the  two  alter- 
natives— the  hiding  and  the  reveahng,  separate- 
ly and  exclusively  before  him,  and  the  difference 
of  the  emotions  felt  and  expressed  by  hira 
marked  the  difference  of  their  effects  upon  his 
mind  and  heart.  Would  we  know  what  impres- 
sion the  reveahng  made,  let  us  plant  ourselves 
by  his  side  as  the  seventy  return  from  their  brief 
but  successful  mission,  and  tell  him  of  the  re- 
sults ;  when,  w^ithout  a  shadow  on  his  joy,  he  re- 
joices in  spirit,  and  repeats  in  words  the  very 
thanksgiving  that  he  now  offered.  Would  we 
know  what  impression  the  hiding  made,  let  us 
plant  ourselves  beside  him  as  he  beheld  the  city 
and  wept  over  it,  exclaiming,  "0  Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem !  if  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at 
least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong 
unto  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyes." 

But  is  it  a  full  solution  of  the  mystery  that 
those  left  in  darkness  have  themselves,  by  their 
willfulness,  and  pride,  and  carnality,  created  a 
medium  through  which  the  heavenly  light  can- 
not pass  ?  Why  is  it,  if  the  spirits  of  all  men 
are  equally  and  absolutely  beneath  the  control 


118  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

of  the  Creator,  tliat  any  are  suffered  to  remain 
ill  such  condition  ?  There  is  no  answer  to  such 
a  question,  for,  take  up  the  great  enigma  of  the 
doings  of  God  and  the  destinies  of  man  at  what 
end  you  may,  approach  it  from  what  quarter  you 
please,  adopt  whatever  method  of  sohition  you 
may  prefer,  make  your  way  through  the  difficul- 
ties that  beset  you  as  far  as  you  can,  sooner  or 
later  you  reach  the  point  where  explanation 
fails,  and  where  there  is  nothing  left  for  us  but 
to  join  with  him  who  said,  "  Even  so,  Father, 
for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight." 

The  occasion  now  before  us  may  have  been 
the  first  in  which  Jesus  was  seen  and  heard  in 
the  act  of  prayer.  The  stopping  of  the  cur- 
rent of  his  address  to  them  by  the  offering  up 
of  a  short  and  solemn  thanksgiving  to  his 
Father  in  heaven  must  have  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  multitude.  It  was  singularly 
fitted  to  excite  wonder  and  awe,  and  to  lead 
them  to  inquire  what  the  peculiar  relationship 
was  in  which  Jesus  stood  to  the  Great  Being 
whom  he  so  addressed.  Was  it  not  as  one 
reading  their  thoughts  and  graciously  conde- 
scending to  unfold  so  much  of  the  mystery  of 
his  Sonship  to  the  Father,  that  Jesus  went  on 
to  say,  "All  things  are  delivered  unto  me  of 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  119 

my  Father  :  and  no  man  knoweth  the  Son,  but 

the  Father and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son 

will  reveal  him."  The  Baptist,  in  his  closing 
testimony  to  Jesus,  had  declared,  "the  Father 
loveth  the  Son,  and  hath  given  all  things  into 
his  hand." 

Jesus  now  takes  up  and  appropriates  this 
testimony.  With  special  reference^  we  may 
believe,  to  the  things  hidden  and  revealed  of 
which  he  had  been  speaking,  he  says:— All 
things — all  those  things  concerning  man's  rela- 
tionship to  God,  and  his  condition  here  and 
hereafter,  have  not  simply  been  revealed,  but 
been  delivered  to  me, — handed  over  for  adjust- 
ment, for  discovery  to  and  bestowed  upon  men ; 
and  chiefly  that  of  the  true  knowledge  of  God. 
Intimate  and  complete  is  the  mutual  knowledge 
which  the  Father  and  the  Son  have  of  one  an- 
other, a  knowledge  in  kind  and  in  degree  in- 
communicable. It  is  the  Father  alone  who 
knoweth  who  the  Son  is  ;  the  Son  alone  who 
knoweth  who  the  Father  is.  *'  As  the  Father 
knoweth  me,"  said  Jesus,  "  even  so  know  I  the 
Father."*  Finite  may  measure  finite,  like 
comprehend  its  hke,  man  know  what  is  in  man, 
but  here  it  is  Infinite  embracing  Infinite,  the 

*  Joliu  X.  15. 


120  Tee  Embassy  op  the  Baptist. 

Divine  Son  and  the  Divine  Father  compassing 
and  fathoming  the  Divine  Nature,  and  the  Di- 
vine attributes  belonging  equally  to  both. 

And  yet  there  is  a  knowledge  of  the  Father 
to  which  man  may  reach,  yet  reach  only  by  re- 
ceiving it  through  the  Son.  Had  we  been  told 
simply  that  no  man  knoweth  the  Father  but 
the  Son,  nor  the  Son  but  the  Father,  we  should 
not  have  known  to  which  of  the  two  we  were 
to  look  for  any  such  acquaintance  with  either 
or  both  as  our  finite  minds  are  capable  of  at- 
taining ;  but  when  Jesus  says  "  no  man  know- 
eth the  Father  but  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom- 
soever the  Son  will  reveal  him,"  he  announces 
himself  to  us  as  the  sole  revealer  of  the  Father ; 
this  is  no  small  or  secondary  part  of  his  gracious 
office,  to  make  God  clearly  known  to  us  as  our 
Father  which  is  in  heaven.  To  some  obscure 
and  partial  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being 
as  Creator,  Upholder,  Sovereign,  Governor,  we 
may  attain  without  help  of  this  revelation  of 
him  by  Christ ;  but  if  we  would  know  him  in 
his  living  personality,  know  him  as  a  God  not 
afar  off  but  near  at  hand,  know  him  in  all  the 
richness  and  fullness  of  his  mercy  and  love, 
know  him  as  a  pitying,  forgiving,  protecting, 
providing,    comforthig,  reconciled  Father,    we 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  12 

must  get  at  that  knowledge  through  Christ,  we 
must  see  him  as  the  Son  reveals  him.  No  man 
knoweth  thus  the  Father,  but  he  to  whomso- 
ever the  Son  will  reveal  him. 

But  who  is  he  to  whom  this  revelation  of  the 
Father  is  offered  ?  Let  the  broad  unrestricted 
invitation  with  which  the  statement  of  the 
Saviour  is  immediately  succeeded  supply  the 
answer  : — "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 
This  invitation  loses  half  its  meaning,  taken  out 
of  the  connection  in  which  it  was  spoken.  We 
understand  and  appreciate  the  fullness  and  rich- 
ness of  its  significance  only  by  looking  upon  it  as 
grounded  on  and  flowing  out  of  what  Christ  had 
the  moment  before  been  saying.  At  first  sight  it 
might  seem  as  if  there  was  something  like  con- 
finement and  contraction  in  the  preceding  ut- 
terances of  Jesus.  He  claims  all  things  as 
committed  to  him.  Otherwise  than  through 
him  nothing  can  come  to  us.  He  tells  us  that 
for  all  true  knowledge  of  the  Father  we  must 
be  indebted  exclusively  to  him.  As  to  our 
knowing  and  receiving,  does  this  not  seem  to 
narrow  the  channel  of  their  conveyance  ?  Yes, 
as  this  channel  lies  outside  our  earth,  spanning 
the  mysterious  distance  between  it  and  heaven  j 


122  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

but  watch  as  this  channel  touches  the  earth  and 
spt'eads  out  its  waters  on  every  side,  then  see 
how  all  narrowness  and  contraction  disappears. 
' '  All  things  are  delivered  unto  me  of  my 
Father."  But  why  so  delivered,  why  put  so 
exclusively  into  his  hands  ?  Simply  and  solely 
that  they  might  so  easily,  so  freely,  so  fully 
come  unto  ours.  For  us  to  go  elsewhere  than 
to  him,  to  expect  that  otherwise  than  through 
him  we  are  to  receive  anything,  is  to  resist  and 
repudiate  this  ordinance  of  the  Father.  But 
he  has  all,  he  holds  all  as  the  Treasurer  of  the 
Kingdom,  the  Steward  of  Divine  Mercies,  the 
sinner's  divinely  constituted  Trustee,  and  he 
has  all  and  holds  aU  under  the  condition  that 
there  shall  be  the  freest,  most  unrestricted, 
most  gracious  dispensing  of  all  the  treasures 
committed  to  his  custody,  that  whoever  asks 
shall  get,  that  no  needy  one  shall  ever  come  to 
him  and  be  sent  unrelieved  away.  "No  man 
knoweth  the  Father  but  he  to  whomsoever  the 
Son  will  reveal  him."  But  does  he  niggardly 
withhold  that  revelation,  or  restrict  it  to  a  few  ? 
No  ;  wide  as  the  world  is,  of  all  who  seek  to 
know  the  Father  that  knowing  him  they  may 
have  peace,  so  wide  is  the  unlimited  invitation 
spread.     In  many  a  sublime  attractive  position 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  123 

do  we  see  Jesus  standing  while  executing  his 
gracious  office  here  on  earth — in  none  loftier 
or  more  divine  than  when  placing  himself  hi 
the  centre  of  the  wide  circle  of  humanity,  and, 
looking  round  upon  the  millions  of  our  race, — 
laborers  to  weariness, — with  this  or  that  other 
burden  pressing  them  to  the  earth,  with  the 
full  consciousness  of  one  who  has  the  power  to 
relieve  all  who  come,  he  says  : — "  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest."  Rest, — this  is  what  our 
inward  nature  most  deeply  needs  ;  for  every- 
where, in  every  region  of  it — in  our  intellect, 
our  conscience,  our  affections,  our  will — the 
spirit  of  unrest,  like  a  possessing  demon,  haunts 
us  with  its  disturbing  presence.  Then  let  us 
see  how  Christ  would  have  us  bring  these 
vexed  souls  of  ours  to  him,  that  from  every 
such  haunted  region  of  it  he  may  cast  the  vex- 
ing demon  out. 

Our  intellect,  in  its  search  after  God,  is  in  un- 
rest, re-echoing  the  ancient  plaint,  "  Oh  that  I 
knew  where  I  might  find  him !  ....  Behold,  I 
go  forward,  but  he  is  not  there  ;  and  backward, 
but  I  cannot  perceive  him  :  on  the  left  hand, 
where  he  doth  work,  but  I  cannot  behold  him : 
he  hideth  himself  on  the  riglit  hand,  that  I  can- 


124  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

not  see  him."  There  dawns  upon  us  the  sub- 
hme  idea  of  a  Being  infinitely  wise,  and  just, 
and  good,  author  of  all  and  orderer  of  all,  but 
through  the  clouds  and  darkness  with  which  his 
guidance  and  government  of  this  world  is  so 
densely  swathed  we  begin  to  lose  sight  of  him. 
Looking  at  him  as  revealed  alone  in  the  ways  of 
his  Providence,  we  get  perplexed  as  we  look 
around  upon  a  world  in  which  such  oppressions, 
wrongs,  injustices  are  done,  where  might  so  of- 
ten triumphs  over  right,  where  sin  and  misery  so 
fearfuUy  abound,  where  death  comes  in  to  close 
the  short-lived,  chequered  scene  of  every  earth- 
ly life.  Faith  begins  to  lose  its  footing,  now  be- 
lieving and  now  doubting,  now  all  things  clear, 
now  all  things  clouded,  restlessly  we  are  tossed, 
as  on  a  troubled  sea.  What  we  want  is  some 
firm  ground  for  our  faith  in  God  to  rest  on. 
Jesus  Christ  supphes  that  ground  in  revealing 
this  God  to  us  as  our  Father,  in  telling  us  that 
such  as  he  himself  was,  in  love  and  pity  and  care 
and  help  to  all  around  him,  such  is  the  God  and 
Father  of  us  all  to  the  wliole  human  family.  In 
our  anxiety  to  get  one  true  clear  sight  of  that 
Great  Being  whose  doings  we  contemplate  with 
such  a  mixture  of  awe  and  of  uncertainty,  we 
are  ready  with  Philip  to  say  : — "  Lord,  show  us 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  125 

the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us."  The  answer 
conies  from  the  hps  of  Jesus,  "  Have  I  been  so 
long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known 
me,  Phihp  ?  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen 
the  Father."  It  is  a  Father  of  whose  love  we 
have  the  earthly  image  in  the  love  of  Christ, 
who  rules  the  world  we  live  in.  Can  we  doubt 
any  longer  that  wisdom,  mercy,  justice,  and  love 
shall  direct  the  whole  train  of  the  administration 
of  human  affairs,  the  whole  treatment  of  each 
individual  of  our  race  ? 

There  is  unrest  in  the  conscience.  A  wound- 
ed conscience  who  can  bear  ?  The  sense  of  guilt 
as  it  rises  within  the  breast  who  can  quench  ? 
The  dark  forebodings  that  it  generates  who  can 
clear  away  ?  Men  tell  us  our  fears  are  idle  ;  we 
try  to  believe  them,  and  put  our  foot  upon  those 
fears  to  tread  them  down,  but  they  spring  up 
afresh  beneath  our  tread.  They  tell  us  that 
God  is  too  merciful — too  kind  to  punish.  We 
try  to  believe  them,  knowing  that  God  is  a 
thousandfold  milder,  more  merciful  than  thought 
of  ours  can  conceive  ;  but  we  have  only  to  look 
within  and  around  us  upon  the  sufferings  that 
sin  inflicts,  and  the  vision  of  a  Divinity  that  does 
not,  will  not  punish,  vanishes  like  a  dream  of 
the  night.     Where   then   can  our  conscience- 


126       The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

troubled  spirits  find  repose,  where  but  in  him 
who  hath  taken  our  sin  upon  him,  in  whom 
there  is  redemption  for  us  through  his  blood, 
even  the  forgiveness  of  all  our  sins  ?  If  we  may 
go  to  Christ  for  anything,  it  is  for  this  forgive- 
ness. If  we  may  trust  him  in  anything,  it  is  in 
the  bestowal  of  this  gift.  If  among  the  things 
that  have  been  delivered  unto  him  of  the  Father, 
there  be  one  that  more  clearly  and  conspicu- 
ously than  another  is  held  out  to  be  taken  at 
once  from  his  most  gracious  hand,  it  is  the 
pardon,  the  peace,  the  reconciliation  with  God, 
offered  to  us  in  him.  If  we  put  these  aside,  or 
will  not  take  them  as  the  fruits  of  our  Lord's 
passion,  death,  and  righteousness,  purchased  for 
us  at  that  great  cost  to  him,  gratuitously  be- 
stowed on  us,  then  if  the  higher  instincts  of  our 
moral  and  spiritual  nature  become  in  any  de- 
gree quickened,  what  a  weary,  toilsome,  fruitless 
task  do  they  set  us  to  execute ! 

These  instincts  tell  us  that  we  are  the  crea- 
tures of  another's  hand,  the  dependents  on  an- 
other's bounty,  the  subjects  of  another's  rule, 
that  to.  him  our  first  duties  are  owing,  that 
against  him  our  greatest  offences  have  been 
committed,  that  to  stand  well  with  him  is  the 
first  necessity  of  our  behig.     How  then  f^haU 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  127 

we  remedy  the  evil  of  our  past  ingratitude  and 
disobedience,  how  shall  we  bring  things  right 
and  keep  things  right  between  us  and  God? 
Oh !  if  all  the  anxious  thought,  and  weary  la- 
bors, the  prayers,  the  pains,  the  self-restraints, 
the  self-mortifications,  the  offerings  at  all  the 
altars,  the  giving  to  all  the  priests,  the  sacrifices 
— personal,  domestic,  social,  of  affections,  of 
property,  of  life — that  have  been  made  by 
mankind  to  turn  away  the  apprehended  wrath 
of  Heaven,  and  to  work  themselves  into  some- 
thing like  favor  with  the  powers  of  the  invisi- 
ble world  ; — if  they  could  be  all  brought  to- 
gether and  heaped  up  in  one  great  mass  before 
us,  what  a  mountain-pile  of  toil  and  suffering 
would  they  exhibit,  what  a  gigantic  monument 
to  the  sense  of  sin,  the  power  of  conscience  in 
the  human  heart !  •  With  a  most  mournful  eye 
we  look  upon  that  pile  as  we  remember  that  it 
has  been  heaped  up  needlessly  and  in  vain, 
that  all  that  was  wanted  was  the  ceasing  on 
the  part  of  those  engaged  in  it  from  the  effort 
to  establish  a  righteousness  of  their  own  before 
God,  the  ceasing  to  revert  to  any  such  methods 
to  ward  off  the  displeasure  or  to  win  the  favor 
of  the  Most  High,  the  ceasing  to  repair  to  such 
harbors  of  refuge  as  churches,  altars  and  priests : 


128  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

and  the  opening  simply  of  the  ear  to  the  words 
of  Jesus,  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

There  is  unrest  in  our  affections.  Here  they 
foolishly  wander,  there  they  bitterly  are  checked, 
at  times  dammed  up  by  manifold  obstructions, 
at  times  running  wildly  to  waste,  ever  seeking, 
never  finding  full  allowed  complacent  rest. 
And  why?  Because  nowhere  here  on  earth 
can  a  being  or  object  be  found  on  which  we 
can  safely,  innocently,  abidingly  lavish  the 
whole  wealth  of  that  affection  which  the  heart 
contains.  For  the  right  placing,  the  full-  out- 
drawing,  the  perfect  and  the  permanent  repose 
of  the  heart,  we  want  one  to  love — above  us, 
so  that  reverence  may  mingle  with  esteem ;  like 
us,  so  that  closely  and  familiarly  we  may  em- 
brace— one  in  whom  all  conceivable  excellences 
meet  and  centre,  all  that  the  eye  covets  to  ad- 
mire, that  the  heart  asks  to  love.  We  seek 
for  such  an  one  hi  vain  till  we  hear  Jesus  say- 
ing, Come  unto  me,  and  /  will  give  you  rest. 
We  go,  and  all,  and  more  than  all,  we  ask  for, 
could  think  of,  we  find  in  him.  Grace  and 
truth  blended  in  perfect  harmony,  a  beauty  un- 
dimmed  by  a  single  blemish,  a  sympathy  con- 
stant and  entire,  a  love  eternal,  unchangeable, 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  129 

which  liothmg  can  quench,  from  which  nothing 
can  separate.  Here  at  last,  and  here  only,  do 
we  find  one  wishing  to  be  loved  and  worthy  to 
be  loved  with  the  full  devotion  of  the  heart. 
Restless  till  it  lights  on  him,  with  what  a  warm 
embrace  when  it  finds  him  does  the  heart  of 
faith  clasp  Jesus  to  its  bosom !  "  What  is  thy 
beloved  more  than  another  beloved?" — may 
the  watchman  of  the  city  say.  The  answer  is 
at  hand  :  "  My  beloved  is  the  chief  among  ten 
thousand,  he  is  altogether  lovely.  I  am  my 
beloved's  and  my  beloved  is  mine — my  Lord, 
my  God,  my  Shepherd,  Saviour,  Kinsman, 
Brother,  Friend." 

There  is  unrest  in  the  will.  It  is  not  sub- 
ject to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be. 
It  aims  at,  it  attempts  independence.  We 
would  be  our  own  masters,  we  will  not  have 
another  to  reign  over  us ;  and  so,  instead  of 
the  quiet  of  a  settled  order,  there  is  confusion 
and  anarchy  within.  All,  indeed,  is  not  left 
absoiutely  loose,  unreined,  unregulated.  A  yoke 
of  some  kind  we  all  are  born  under,  or  willingly 
take  on.  Some  assume  the  yoke  of  a  single 
passion  of  their  nature,  and  if  that  passion  be  a 
strong  one,  such  as  covetousness,  it  is  not  long 
ere  it  turns  the  man  into  a  slave,  making  him 


130  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

a  mere  beast  of  burden — time  for  nothing,  care 
for  nothing,  taste  for  nothing,  joy  in  nothing  but 
in  working  for  it  and  under  it.  And  the  more 
work  done  for  it,  the  more  does  it  impose — its 
day  of  hxbor  without  any  evening  tide,  its 
week  without  a  Sabbath.  Nor  does  it  mend 
the  matter  much  if  instead  of  one  there 
be  many  such  yokes  about  the  neck,  josthng 
one  another,  fretting  and  galling  the  wearer  by 
the  force  and  variety  of  the  impulses  that  drive 
him  in  this  direction  and  in  that.  It  is  to  all 
mankind  as  bearers  of  the  one  yoke,  or  the 
many,  that  Jesus  says — "Take  up  my  yoke, 
throw  off  these  others,  the  yoke  of  pride,  of 
covetousness,  of  sensuality,  of  worldiiness,  of 
ambition,  of  self-indulgence — take  on  that  yoke, 
which  consists  in  devotedness  to  me,  to  duty, 
in  a  life  of  self  restraint,  in  a  struggle  with  all 
that  is  evil,  a  cultivation  of  all  that  is  beautiful, 
and  .good,  and  holy.  A  hard  yoke  you  may 
think  this  to  be,  but  believe  me,  my  yoke  is 
easy,  my  burden  is  light,  easier  and  lighter  far 
than  those  you  are  groaning  under." 

One  great  reason  why  we  are  unconscious 
of  the  comparative  lightness  and  easiness  of  this 
yoke  of  the  Christian  discipleship  is  that  we 
take  it  on  in  the  spiritof  fear,  and  of  a  selfish 


The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist.  131 

mercenary  hope,  instead  of  with  that  trust  and 
love  and  gratitude  which  are  the  soft  wrappings 
which,  laid  beneath  it,  make  it  so  easy  to  be 
borne.  It  is  as  those  who  have  been  redeemed 
to  God  by  Christ's  most  precious  blood,  whose 
sins  have  been  all  forgiven  them  for  Jesus' 
sake,  whose  peace  has  been  made  with  God 
through  him  ;  it  is  in  the  spirit  of  child-like 
confidence,  looking  up  to  God  as  our  Father  in 
heaven,  and  to  himself  as  having  ready  in  his 
hand  for  us  the  grace  and  strength  we  need, 
that  Jesus  would  have  us  meet  every  duty, 
face  every  temptation,  endure  every  trial,  of 
the  Christian  life.  But  if  instead  of  this  it  be 
with  a  doubtful  mind  and  a  divided  heart  that 
we  put  forth  the  hand  to  take  on  the  yoke — if 
we  do  this,  not  so  much  to  render  a  return  for 
a  great  benefit  already  received,  as  to  add  to 
our  chance  of  receiving  that  benefit  hereafter 
— if  it  be  for  peace  and  not  from  peace,  for  life 
and  not  from  life  that  we  are  working — what 
is  this  but  trying  without  throwing  it  off  to 
shift  the  old  yoke  of  self  a  httle,  to  loosen  some 
of  its  fastenings,  and  by  their  help  try  to  at- 
tach to  us  the  new  yoke  of  Christ?  Is  it 
wonderful  that,  encumbered  thus,  there  should 
be  little  freedom  of  motion,  little  capacity  for, 


132  The  Embassy  of  the  Baptist. 

and  little  enjoyment  of,  the  work  of  faith  and 
labor  of  love  ?  If  we  desire  to  know  how 
truly  easy  the  yoke  of  Jesus  is,  let  us  first  en- 
ter into  the  rest  that  at  once  and  in  full 
measure  he  gives  to  all  who  come  to  him — the 
rest  of  forgiveness,  peace,  acceptance  with  God, 
And  then,  animated  and  strengthened  by  the 
possession  and  enjoyment  of  this  rest,  let  us 
assume  the  yoke,  that  in  the  bearing  of  it  we  may 
enter  into  the  further  rest  that  there  is  for  us  in 
him— the  rest  of  a  meek  and  lowly  heart, 
gentle,  resigned,  contented,  patient  of  wrong, 
submissive  under  suffering,  a  rest  not  given  at 
once  or  in  full  measure  to  any  ;  to  possess  which 
we  must  be  ready  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
following  verses  : 

"  Fain  would  I  my  Lord  pursue, 

Be  all  my  Saviour  taught ; 
Do  as  Jesus  bade  me  do, 

And  think  as  Jesus  thought, 
But  'tis  Thou  must  change  my  heart, 

The  perfect  gift  must  come  from  Thee  ; 
Meek  Redeemer,  now  impart 

Thine  own  humility. 

Lord,  I  cannot,  must  not  rest 

Till  I  thy  miud  obtain  ; 
Chase  presumption  from  my  breast, 

And  all  thy  mildness  gain. 
Give  me,  Lord,  thy  gentle  heart. 

Thy  lowly  mind  my  portion  be  ; 
Meek  Redeemer,  now  impart 

Thine  own  humihty. " 


yn. 

THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.* 

COMING-  as  it  does  in  the  narrative  of  St 
Luke  (the  only  evangehst  who  records 
it)  immediately  after  that  discourse  which 
closed  with  the  invitation,  "  Come  unto  me,  all 
ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,"  how  natural  the  thought  that 
here,  in  what  is  told  us  about  the  woman  who 
was  a  sinner,  we  have  one  instance — perhaps 
the  first  that  followed  its  delivery — of  that  in- 
vitation being  accepted, — of  one  wearied  and 
heavy  laden  coming  to  Jesus,  and  entering  into 
the  promised  rest.  Multitudes  had  already 
come  to  him  to  get  their  bodily  ailments  cured  : 
she  may  have  been  the  first  who  came  under 
the  pressure  of  a  purely  spiritual  impulse — 
grieving,  desiring,  hoping,  loving,  to  get  all 
and  more  than  all  she  sought, 

*  Luke  Yii.  36-50. 


134  The  "Woman  who  was  a  Sinnee. 

Jesus  has  accepted  the  invitation  of  a  Phar- 
isee, and  recUnes,  leaning  upon  his  left  arm, 
his  head  towards  the  table,  his  unsandaUed  feet 
stretched  outwards.  Through  the  crowd  of 
guests,  and  servants,  and  spectators,  a  woman 
well  known  in  the  city  for  the  profligate  life  she 
had  been  leading,  ghdes  nearer  and  nearer,  till 
she  stands  behind  him.  As  she  stands  she 
weeps.  The  tears  fall  thickly  upon  his  feet. 
She  has  nothing  else  with  which  to  do  it,  so 
she  stoops  and  wipes  the  tears  away  with  her 
loose  dishevelled  hair.  She  gently  grasps  the 
feet  of  Jesus  to  kiss  them,  and  now  she  remem- 
bers the  box  she  had  brought,  in  hope,  per- 
haps, to  find  some  fitting  opportunity  of  pour- 
ing its  contents  upon  his  head ;  but  she  can 
make  no  nearer  approach,  and  so  she  sheds 
the  precious  pei-funied  ointment  on  those  feet 
which  she  had  washed  with  her  tears,  wiped 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  covered  with 
the  kisses  of  her  lips. 

What  has  brought  this  woman  here  ?  what 
moves  her  to  act  in  this  way  to  Jesus  ?  Some- 
where, somehow  Jesus  had  recently  crossed  her 
path.  She  had  heard  his  calls  to  repentance, 
his  offers  of  forgiveness,  his  promises  of  peace 
and  rest.     The  arrow  had  entered  into  her  soul. 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner.         135 

She  stood  ashamed  and  confounded.  Her  ini- 
quities took  hold  of  her  so  that  she  was  not  able 
to  look  up,  yet  deep  within  her  heart  new  hopes 
w^ere  rising,  dimly  before  her  eyes  new  pros- 
pects dawned.  All  the  penitence  she  experi- 
enced, all  the  new  desires,  expectations,  resolu- 
tions, that  were  filling  her  breast  she  owed  to 
him — to  the  gentle  and  loving  yet  resolute  and 
truthful  spirit  in  which  Jesus  had  spoken.  She 
had  looked  at  him,  had  listened  to  him,  had  fol- 
lowed him  as  he  opened  those  arms  of  his  mercy 
so  widely,  and  invited  all  to  come  to  him.  And 
what  he  so  fully  offered — the  peace  of  forgive- 
ness, the  blessedness  of  meekness  and  lowliness, 
of  poverty  of  spirit,  purity  of  heart — these  are 
what  she  now,  above  all  things,  desired  to  have. 
Believing  that  she  can  get  them  alone  from  him, 
an  irresistible  attraction  draws  her  to  him. 
Jewish  women  were  wont  to  honor,  by  one  or 
other  mark  of,  favor  shown,  the  Rabbi  or  teach- 
er to  whom  they  felt  most  attached  or  indebted. 
But  what  shall  she  render  unto  One  who  has 
already  quickened  her  to  a  new  hfe  of  hope  and 
love  ?  She  hears  of  his  going  to  dine  with  the 
Pharisee.  Too  well  she  knows  how  this  man 
and  his  guests  will  look  upon  her,  what  an  act 
of  effrontery  on  her  part  it  will  appear  that  she 


136         The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner. 

should  obtrude  her  presence  mto  such  a  dwell 
ing  at  such  a  time.  But  faith  makes  her  bold, 
love  triumphs  over  fear.  She  presses  in  and 
on,  till  at  last  she  finds  herself  bending  over  the 
feet  of  Jesus,  with  the  costliest  thing  she  has, 
the  alabaster  box  of  ointment,  in  her  hand. 
As  she  stands  behind  that  form,  as  she  stoops 
to  embrace  those  feet,  all  the  thoughtlessness, 
the  recklessness,  the  unrestrained  self-indulg- 
ence of  by-past  years,  the  ties  she  had  broken, 
the  injuries  she  had  done,  the  reproaches  she 
had  incurred,  the  sins  she  had  committed,  flash 
upon  her  memory.  Who  is  she,  that  she  should 
come  so  near  and  touch  so  familiarly  the  pure 
and  the  holy  Jesus  ?  She  cannot  meet  his  eye, 
she  does  not  press  herself  upon  his  notice.  But 
is  he  not  the  meek  and  compassionate,  as  well  as 
the  pure  and  the  holy  One  ?  While  others  had 
frowned  upon  her,  avoided  her,  discarded  her, 
treated  her  as  an  outcast,  had  he  not  shown  a 
deep  and  tender  interest  in  her,  a  yearning  over 
her  to  take  her  in  his  hand  and  lead  her  back 
to  the  paths  of  purity  and  peace  ?  It  was  this 
kindly  treatment  that  had  broken  down  all 
power  to  resist  upon  her  part,  which  had  giv- 
en him  such  a  hold  of  her,  which  had  brought 
her  to  the  house  of  the  Pharisee  to  see  him, 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner.         137 

which  had  drawn  her  so  close  to  hira.  But  the 
very  thought  of  all  the  love  and  pity  that  he 
had  shown  to  her  and  to  all  sinners  open  afresh 
the  fountains  of  shame  and  self-reproach,  and 
the  tears  of  a  true  and  deep  repentance  flow 
forth ;  not  the  tears  of  bare  self-condemnation 
' — a  stinging  remorse,  goading  the  spirit  to  de- 
spair. Along  with  a  true  sense  of  her  sin  there 
is  an  apprehension  of  the  Divine  mercy — that 
mercy  revealed  to  her  in  Jesus.  She  sorrows 
not  over  her  sins  as  one  who  has  no  hope  :  a 
trust  in  Christ's  readiness  and  power  to  pardon 
and  to  save  her  has  already  entered  into  her 
heart.  The  very  sense,  however,  of  his  exceed- 
ing graciousness  quickens  the  sense  of  her  ex- 
ceeding sinfulness.  The  faith  and  hope  to  which 
she  has  been  begotten  intensify  her  penitence, 
and  that  penitence  intensifies  her  love  ;  so  that 
as  we  look  upon  her — first  standing  silently 
weeping,  then  bending  down  and  bathing  those 
feet  with  her  tears,  then  clasping  and  kissing 
them  and  pouring  the  rich  ointment  over  them 
— she  presents  herself  to  our  eye  as  the  most 
striking  picture  of  a  loving,  humble  penitent  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus  which  the  Gospels  present. 

It  was  with  a  very  different  sentiment  from 
that  with  which  we  are  disposed  to  look  at  her 


138         The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner. 

that  she  was  looked  at  by  the  Pharisee  who 
presided  at  the  feast.  He  had  noticed  her  en- 
trance, watched  her  movements,  seen  that, 
though  not  turning  round  to  speak  to  her, 
Jesus  was  not  unconscious  of  her  presence,  was 
permitting  her  to  wash  and  wipe  and  anoint 
his  feet.  For  the  woman  he  has  nothing  but 
indignation  and  contempt.  He  thinks  only  of 
what  she  had  been,  not  of  what  she  is  ;  and  his 
only  wonder  as  to  her  is,  how  she  could  have 
presumed  to  enter  liere  and  act  as  she  has  been 
dohig.  But  he  wonders,  also,  at  Jesus.  He 
cannot  be  the  prophet  that  so  many  take  him  to 
be,  or  he  would  have  known  what  kind  of 
woman  this  was  ;  for  he  could  not  have  known 
that  and  yet  allowed  himself  to  be  defiled  with 
her  touch.  Whatever  respect  he  had  been 
prepared  to  show  to  Jesus  begins  to  suffer  loss, 
as  he  sees  him  allowing  such  familiarities  to  be 
practised  by  such  hands.  Not  that  this  respect 
had  ever  been  very  spiritual  or  very  profound. 
The  omissions  that  our  Lord  notices — notices 
not  so  much  in  the  way  of  complaint  as  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  out  the  contrast  between 
the  treatment  given  by  the  two — Simon  and 
the  woman — would  seem  rather  to  imply  that 
he  had  not  been  careful  to  show  any  particular 


The  "Woman  who  was  a  Sinneb.  139 

regard  to  his  guest.  Perhaps  he  thought  that 
he  was  paying  such  a  comphment  to  Jesus  in 
inviting  him  to  his  house  that  he  need  be  the 
less  attentive  to  the  courtesies  of  his  reception. 
It  was  a  rare  thing  for  a  man  hke  him — a 
Pharisee — to  do  such  a  thing.  Simon,  how- 
ever, was  not  one  of  the  strict  and  rigid,  the 
rehgious  devotees  of  his  order  ;  he  was  more  a 
moraUst  than  a  pietist;  and  seeing  much  in 
Jesus  to  approve,  and  even  admire,  he  was 
quite  ready  to  ask  'him  to  his  house,  in  the 
hope,  perhaps,  that  in  the  easy  freedom  of  so- 
cial intercourse  he  might  test  the  pretensions 
of  this  new  teacher,  and  see  further  than  others 
into  his  true  character  and  claims.  One  mark 
or  token  of  his  order  is  deeply  stamped  upon 
this  Simon — pride, — a  pride  it  may  have  been, 
a  little  different  from  that  of  the  Pharisee 
whom  Jesus  represents  in  the  parable  as  prais- 
ing himself  before  God  for  his  fasting  twice  in 
the  week  and  giving  tithes  of  all  that  he  pos- 
sessed, yet  quite  akin  to  his  in  comparing  him- 
self with  and  despising  others.  He,  too,  might 
have  stood  and  prayed  thus  with  himself:  God, 
I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are, 
extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or  as  this  woman 
here.     Anything  like  contact,  concert,  familiar 


140  The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinker. 

intercourse  with  such  a  low,  abandoned  woman, 
no  man  who  had  any  proper  self-respect,  he 
thinks,  could  practise  or  endure.  And  now 
that  he  sees  Jesus  consenting  to  be  touched 
and  handled  by  her,  his  only  explanation  of  i1 
is  that  he  cannot  know  what  kind  of  woman 
she  is.  "Now  when  the  Pharisee  which  had 
bidden  him  saw  it,  he  spake  within  himself,  say- 
ing. This  man,  if  he  were  a  prophet,  would 
have  known  who  and  what  manner  of  woman 
this  is  that  toucheth  him,"* 

In  thinking  and  feeling  so,  he  entirely  over- 
looks the  change  that  had  taken  place — the 
evidence  of  which  appeared  in  the  very  man- 
ner of  t'he  woman's  present  conduct,  and  above 
all  the  nature  and  strength  of  the  tie  which 
that  change  created  between  her  and  Jesus. 
It  was  to  lift  him  out  of  this  deep  abyss  of 
pride,  and  if  possible  to  show  him  how  much 
closer,  deeper,  tenderer  a  relationship  it  was  in 
which  this  penitent  stood  to  him,  than  that  in 
which  he,  Simon,  stood,  that  Jesus  stated  the 
case  of  the  two  debtors.  "  And  Jesus  answer- 
ing said  unto  him,  Simon,  I  have  somewhat  to 
say  unto  thee.     And  he  saith.  Master,  say  on. 

•  Luke  vii.  39. 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner.  1-il 

There  was  a  certain  creditor  which  had  two 
debtors  :  the  one  owed  five  hundred  pence,  and 
the  other  fifty.  And  when  they  had  nothing  to 
pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both.  Tell  me, 
therefore,  which  of  them  will  love  him  most  ? 
Simon  answered  and  said,  I  suppose  that  he  to  • 
whom  he  forgave  most.  And  he  said  unto  him, 
Thou  hast  rightly  judged." 

As  little  as  David  saw  the  drift  of  Nathan's 
parable  of  the  little  ewe  lamb,  so  little  did  Si- 
mon at  first  perceive  the  drift  of  the  one  now 
addressed  to  himself,  and  so  he  promptly  an- 
swers, I  suppose  that  it  would  be  he  to  whom 
he  forgave  most.  Out  of  his  own  mouth  he 
stands  convicted.  It  would  be  straining  the 
short  parable  in  this  instance  spoken  by  our 
Lord  if  we  took  it  as  strictly  and  literally  rep- 
resenting the  relative  positions  before  God  in 
which  Simon  and  the  woman  stood,  or  as  in- 
timating that  both  had  been  actually  forgiven, 
the  one  as  much  more  than  the  other  as  five 
hundred  exceeds  fifty  pence. 

It  is  not  so  much  the  amount  actually  owed 
as  that  known  and  felt  by  the  debtors  to  be 
owing,  and  their  conscious  inability  to  meet  in 
any  way  the  payment,  that  supplies  the  ground- 
work of  our  Lord's  application  of  the  suppositi- 


142  The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner. 

tious  Cease,  "  And  he  turned  to  the  woman, 
and  said  unto  Shnon,  Seest  thou  this  woman? 
I  entered  into  thine  house,  tliou  gavest  me  no 
water  for  my  feet :  but  she  hath  washed  my 
feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs 
9f  lier  head.  Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss  :  but 
this  woman  since  the  time  I  came  in  hath  not 
ceased  to  kiss  my  feet  My  head  with  oil  thou 
didst  not  anoint :  but  this  woman  hath  anointed 
my  feet  with  ointment.  Wlierefore  I  say  unto 
thee,  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven  ; 
for  she  loved  much  :  but  to  whom  little  is  for- 
given, the  same  loveth  little."  Thou  hast  been 
watching,  Simon,  all  that  this  woman  has  been 
doing,  but  what  is  the  true  explanation  of 
her  conduct,  the  explanation  that  vindicates 
at  once  her  conduct  to  me  and  my  conduct 
to  her  ?  Why  is  it  that  she  has  been  show- 
ing me  marks  of  respect,  and  strong  per- 
sonal attachment  contrasting  so  with  those  that 
you  have  shown,  or  rather  have  omitted  to 
show  ?  She  has  done  so,  because  she  loves  so 
much  ;  and  she  loves  so  much,  because  she  has 
been  so  much  forgiven.  It  is  but  little  com- 
pared with  her  that  you  feel  you  owe,  but  little 
that  you  can  be  forgiven  ;  but  little  therefore, 
that  you  love. 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner.  143 

In  speaking  to  him  thus,  how  forbearingly, 
how  leniently  did  the  Lord  deal  with  Simon  ; 
how  much  more  leniently  and  forbearingly  we 
may  be  apt  to  think  than  he  had  deserved,  or 
than  his  case  warranted.  But  it  was  so  in 
every  case  with  our  Divine  Master,  ever  seek- 
mg  the  good  of  those  he  dealt  with — striving 
by  the  gentle  insinuations  of  his  grace  to  win 
his  way  into  their  consciences  and  hearts, 
rather  than  by  full  display  of  all  their  guilt  or 
stern  denunciation  of  it.  If  in  this  instance 
he  was  successful,  if  Simon's  eyes  were  opened 
to  discern  in  the  two  debtors  himself  and  the 
woman,  and  in  the  creditor  to  whom  all  their 
debts  were  due  none  other  than  He  who  was 
sitting  at  his  table,  what  a  wonderful  revolu- 
tion in  his  estimate  of  Jesus  must  have  taken 
place ;  for  nothing  in  this  whole  narrative 
strikes  so  much  as  the  simple,  natural,  eas}'', 
unostentatious  manner  in  which  Jesus  assumes 
to  himself  the  position  of  that  Being  to  whom 
all  spiritual  debts  are  owing,  and  by  whom  they 
are  forgiven. 

"  Her  sins,"  said  Jesus  of  the  woman  to 
Simon,  "  which  are  many,  are  forgiven,  for  she 
loved  much."  So  to  interpret  this  saying  of 
the  Saviour  as  to  make  the  loving  the  ground 


14:4:         The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner. 

of  the  forgiveness  would  be  to  contradict  both 
the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  preceding  parable, 
in  which  the  love  is  represented  as  flowing  out 
of  the  forgiveness,  and  not  the  forgiveness  as 
flowing  out  of  the  love — Jesus  points  to  the 
love  not  as  the  spring  but  as  the  evidence  of 
the  forgiveness — to  the  strength  of  the  one  as 
indicating  the  extent  of  the  other. 

When  Christ  said  so  emphatically  to  the 
Phari'^ee,  "  Simon,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  to 
thee,"  the  attention  of  the  woman  must  have 
been  for  the  moment  diverted  from  her  own 
case,  directed  to  the  colloquy  that  followed,  the 
more  so  as  it  seemed  at  first  to  have  no  refer- 
ence to  her.  But  when  He  turned,  and,  look- 
ing on  her  for  the  first  time,  said,  "  Seest  thou 
this  woman?"  into  what  a  strange  tumult  of 
emotion  must  she  have  been  thrown,  all  eyes 
on  her — the  contrast  between  her  attentions 
and  love  to  Jesus  and  those  of  Simon  drawn 
out  in  particular  after  particular  by  our  Lord 
himself,  all  closed  by  her  hearing  Him  declare, 
*'  Wherefore  I  say  unto  thee.  Her  sins,  wliich 
are  many,  are  forgiven."  The  desire,  the 
hope  of  pardon,  had  already  dawned  upon  her 
heart.  She  had  trusted  hi  the  Divine  mercy  aa 
revealed  to  her  in  Jesus,  and  already  experi- 


The  "Woman  who  was  a  Sinneb.         145 

enced  the  relief  and  comfort  this  trust  was  fitted 
to  impart.  Her  faith,  however,  was  yet  imper- 
fect, her  sense,  her  assurance  of  forgiveness  not 
reheved  from  uncertainty  and  doubt ;  but  now, 
from  the  Hps  of  the  Lord  Himself,  she  hears  the 
fact  announced  that  her  sins  had  been  forgiven, 
and,  as  if  that  were  not  enough — as  if  He  would 
do  everything  that  word  of  his  could  do,  to 
seal  the  assurance  on  her  heart — Jesus  turns  to 
her  and  says,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  J'  Fear 
takes  wings  and  flies  away,  doubt  can  find  no 
more  room  within,  the  sins  without  number  of 
all  her  bygone  life  rush  out  of  sight  into  the 
depths  of  that  sea  into  which  Jesus  casts  them. 
Not  ceasing  to  be  penitent,  more  penitent  than 
ever,  the  bowed-down  spirit  is  Hfted  up  as  the 
full  blessedness  enters  and  possesses  it  of  one 
whose  transgression  is  all  forgiven,  whose  sin 
is  altogether  covered. 

"  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee"  Was  it  in 
wonder  and  with  an  awe  like  that  of  men  who 
feel  themselves  in  the  presence  of  One  in  whom 
the  most  peculiar  prerogative  of  the  Divinity 
resided,  or  was  it  in  hatred  and  with  contempt 
of  him  as  an  arrogant,  presumptuous  blasphe- 
mer, that  those  aronnd  the  table  began  to  say 
to  themselves,  "  Who  is  this  that  forgiveth  sins 


146         The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinneb. 

also  ? "  Whatever  their  state  of  mind  was  as 
to  himself,  Jesus  does  not  lay  it  bare,  nor  stop 
to  expose  or  correct  it.  But  there  was  one 
mistake  that  they  might  make  as  to  the  forgive- 
ness he  had  pronounced.  They  might  imagine 
it  to  have  been  capriciously  or  arbitrarily  dis- 
pensed ;  they  might  fail. to  trace  its  connection 
with  the  spiritual  condition  of  her  upon  whom 
it  was  bestowed  ;  if  not  dissevering  it  from  its 
source  in  him,  they  might  dissociate  it  from  its 
channel,  the  faith  in  him  which  she  had  cher- 
ished. Even  she  herself,  after  what  had  been 
said,  might  be  disposed  to  attach  the  forgive- 
ness to  the  love,  rather  than  the  love  to  the 
forgiveness,  overlooking  the  common  root  of 
both  in  that  faith  which  brought  her  to  Jesus, 
and  taught  her  to  cast  her  confidence  alone 
and  undividedly  on  him.  Therefore  his  last 
word,  as  he  dismisses  her,  is,  *'  Thy  faith  hath 
saved  thee  ;  go  in  peace."  In  peace  she  goes, 
silently  as  she  had  entered  ;  not  a  single  word 
throughout  escaping  from  her  lips,  her  heart 
at  first  too  full  of  humiliation,  grief,  and  shame, 
now  too  full  of  joy  and  gratitude.  In  peace 
she  goes,  light  forever  after  on  her  heart  the 
reproach  that  man  might  cast  upon  her — the 
Christ-given  peace  the  keeper  of  her  mind  and 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinnek.         147 

heart.  She  goes  to  hide  herself  from  our  view, 
her  name  and  all  her  after-history  unknown. 
The  faith  and  traditions  of  Western  Christen- 
dom have  indeed  identified  her  with  Mary  of 
Magdala,  and  assigned  to  her  a  place  among 
those  women  who  ministered  to  the  Lord  of 
their  substance,  who  were  admitted  to  close 
and  familiar  intercourse  with  him  in  Galilee, 
and  who  were  privileged  to  be  the  last  atten- 
dants on  the  cross  and  first  visitors  of  the 
sepulchre. 

We  will  not  presume  to  say  how  far  the 
former  life  of  the  penitent  woman  would  have 
interfered  with  her  occupying  such  a  position  ; 
we  will  not  allude  to  the  difficulty  that  will 
occur  as  you  try  to  imagine  what  substance  she 
could  have  had,  or  whence  derived,  out  of 
which  she  could  minister  to  Jesus.  Neither 
shall  we  dwell  upon  the  fact  that  out  of  Mary 
of  Magdala  seven  devils  had  been  cast,  a  pos- 
session not  necessarily  implying  any  former 
criminality  of  life,  yet  apparently  quite  incon- 
sistent with  the  kind  of  hfe  that  this  woman 
had  been  leading.  Enough,  that  when  Mary, 
called  Magdalene,  is  first  mentioned,  as  she  is 
in  the  opening  verses  of  the  next  chapter  in 
St.  Luke's  Gospel,  she  is  introduced  as  a  new 


148         The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner. 

person,  not  amid  scenes  then,  nor  at  any  time 
thereafter,  that  in  an}*-  way  connect  her  with 
the  woman  that  had  been  a  sinner.  It  is  true 
that,  whilst  there  is  the  absence  of  all  evidence 
in  favor  of  their  identification,  there  is  the 
absence  also  of  evidence  sufficient  positively 
to  disprove  it.  In  these  circumstances  it  may 
be  grateful  to  many  to  trace  in  the  narrative 
now  before  us,  the  earlier  history  of  one  so 
loved,  and  honored  afterwards  by  Jesus,  as 
was  Mary  of  l^lagdala.  Much  more  gratefid 
we  own  to  us  is  the  belief  that  this  penitent, 
whose  broken  heart  was  so  tenderly  upbound 
— having  got  the  healing  from  his  gentle  lov- 
ing hands — from  that  notoriety  into  which  her 
sin  had  raised  her,  retired  voluntarily  into  an 
obscurity  so  deep  that  her  name  and  her  dwel- 
ling-place, and  all  her  after-story,  lie  hidden 
from  our  sight. 

The  forgiveness  so  graciously  conveyed  to 
this  nameless  penitent  is  equally  needed  by  all 
of  us,  is  offered  to  us  all — Christ  is  as  willing  to 
bestow  it  upon  each  of  us  as  ever  he  was  to  be- 
stow it  upon  her.  The  manner  of  our  posses- 
sion and  enjoyment  of  this  gift  depends  upon 
the  manner  in  which  we  deal  with  the  tender 
of  it  made  to  us  by  him.     We  may  keep  it  for- 


The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner.  149 

ever  hanging  at  a  distance  out  before  us,  a  thing 
desired  or  hoped  for,  now  with  more  and  now 
with  less  eagerness  and  expectancy,  according 
to  the  changing  temper  of  our  mind  and  heart. 
But  we  might  have,  we  ought  to  have,  this  bless- 
ing now  in  hand  as  our  present  full  secure  peace- 
giving  possession.  And  not  till  it  thus  be  ours, 
not  till  the  hand  of  faith  shall  grasp  and  hold  it 
as  ours  in  Christ,  ours  through  our  oneness  with 
him  in  whom  we  have  redemption  through  his 
blood,  even  this  very  forgiveness  of  our  sins  ; 
not  till  we  exchange  the  vague  and  general  and 
vacillating  hope  for  the  firm  yet  humble  trust 
which  appropriates  at  once  in  its  full  measure 
this  rich  benefit  (5f  our  Lord's  life  and  death  for 
us  ;  not  till  the  comforting  sense  that  our  sins 
have  been  forgiven  visits  and  cheers  our  heart, 
can  we  love  our  Saviour  as  he  should  be  loved, 
and  as  he  wishes  to  be  loved  by  us.  It  is  when 
we  know  how  much  it  is  that  we  have  owed, 
and  how  much  it  is  that  we  have  been  forgiven, 
that  the  bond  gets  closest  that  binds  us  to  him — 
a  complex,  ever-growing,  ever-tightening  bond, 
the  more  that  is  forgiven  ever  re veahng  more  that 
needs  forgiveness  ;  with  us  as  with  this  woman, 
as  with  all  true  believers,  the  humility,  the  pen- 
itence, the  faith,  the  love,  the  peace,  that  all  ac- 


150  The  "WoiLysi  who  was  a  Sinner. 

company  or  flow  forth  from  the  granted  forgive- 
ness, all  intensifying  each  other,  all  leading  us 
more  simply,  more  entirely,  more  habitually, 
more  confidingly  to  Christ,  for  mercy  to  pardon 
*nd  grace  to  help  us  in  every  time  of  need. 


Tm. 

THE  COLLISION   "WITH  THE   PHARISEES — THE   FIRST 

PARABLES — THE  STILLING  OF  THE  TEMPEST 

THE   DEMONIAC   OF   GADARA.* 

OUR  Lord's  second  circuit  through  Galilee, 
if  not  more  extensive,  was  more  public 
and  formal  than  the  first.  He  was  now  con- 
stantly attended  by  the  twelve  men  whom  he 
had  chosen  out  of  the  general  company  of  his 
followers,  while  certain  women,  Mary,  Joanna, 
Susanna,  and  many  others,  some  of  them  of 
good  position,  waited  on  him,  ministering  to 
him  of  their  substance.  The  crowds  that  gath- 
ered round  him  wherever  he  went ;  the  won- 
der, joy,  and  gratitude  with  which  his  miracles, 
particularly  those  recent  ones  of  raising  the 
dead,    were   hailed ;    the   impression   his   dis- 

*  Matt.  xiL  22-50  ;  xiii. ;  viii.  23-34  ;   Mark  iii.  22-30  ;  iv.  ;  v. 
1-20  ;  Luke  xi.  14:-54  ;  viii.  22-39, 


152  The   Collision 

courses  had  created,  and  the  steps  that  he  had 
now  obviously  taken  towards  organizmg  a  dis- 
tinct body  of  disciples,  fanned  into  an  open 
flame  the  long-smouldering  fire  of  Pharisaic 
opposition.  The  Pharisees  of  Galilee  may  not 
at  first  have  been  as  quick  and  deep  in  their  re- 
sentment as  were  their  brethren  of  Jerusalem, 
neither  had  they  the  same  kind  of  instruments 
in  their  hands  to  employ  against  him.  But 
their  resentment  grew  as  the  profound  discord 
between  the  whole  teaching  and  the  life  of 
Jesus  and  their  own  more  fully  developed  itself, 
and  it  was  zealously  fostered  by  a  deputation 
that  came  down  from  the  capital.  It  had  al- 
ready once  and  again  broken  out,  as  when 
they  had  charged  him  with  being  a  Sabbath- 
breaker  and  a  blasphemer.  On  these  occasions 
Jesus  had  satisfied  himself  with  rebuking  on 
the  spot  the  men  by  whom  the  charges  had 
been  preferred.  But  he  had  not  yet  broken 
with  the  Pharisees  as  a  party,  nor  denounced 
them  either  privately  to  his  disciples  or  publicly 
to  the  multitude.  But  now,  at  the  close  of  his 
second  circuit  through  Galilee,  after  nearly  a 
year's  labor  bestowed  upon  that  province,  the 
collision  came,  and  the  whole  manner  of  his 
speech  and  action  towards  them  was  changed. 


With  the  Pharisees.  153 

Early  in  the  forenoon  of  one  of  his  longest 
and  most  laborious  days  in  Capernaum,  there 
was  brought  to  him  one  possessed  with  a  devil, 
bhnd  and  dumb.  Blindness  and  dumbness, 
whether  springing  from  original  organic  defect 
or  induced  by  disease,  he  had  often  before 
cured.  But  here,  underlying  both,  was  the 
deeper  spiritual  malady  of  possession.  Jesus 
cast  the  devil  out,  and  the  immediate  effect  of 
the  dispossession  was  the  recovery  of  the  pow- 
ers of  speech  and  vision.  There  must  have 
been  something  peculiar  in  the  case.  Perhaps 
it  lay  in  this,  that  whereas  dumbness  in  all  or- 
dinary cases  springs  either  from  congenital  deaf- 
ness or  from  some  defect  in  the  organs  of  speech, 
it  was  due  here  to  neither  of  these  causes. 
The  man  could  hear  as  well  as  others,  and  once 
he  had  spoken  as  well  as  they.  But  from  the 
time  the  devil  entered  he  had  been  tongue-tied, 
had  tried  to  speak  but  could  not.  A  new  and 
horrible  kind  of  dumbness  had  come  upon  him, 
the  closing  of  his  lips  by  an  inward  constraint 
that,  struggle  as  he  might,  he  could  not  over- 
come. St.  Luke  speaks  only  of  the  dumbness, 
as  if  in  it  more  than  in  the  blindness  lay  the 
peculiarity  of  the  case.*     St.  Matthew  records 

•  Luke  iL  1^ 


154:  The  Collision 

another  instance  of  the  ejection  of  a  devil  from 
one  who  was  dumb,  in  which  the  same  effect 
followed  ;  the  dumb  speaking  as  soon  as  the 
devil  was  cast  out.*  It  is  at  least  very  re- 
markable that  it  was  in  connexion  with  this 
class  of  cases  only  that  the  double  result  ap- 
peared, of  an  extraordinary  commotion  among 
the  people  and  an  extraordinary  allegation  put 
forward  by  the  Pharisees. 

The  casting  out  of  devils  had  been  one  of  the 
earliest  and  most  common  of  our  Lord's  mira- 
cles ;  always  carefully  distinguished  by  the 
Evangelists  from  the  healing  of  ordinary  dis- 
eases ;  awakening  generally  not  more  wonder, 
perhaps  not  so  much  as  some  of  the  bodily 
cures.  If  the  testimony  of  Josephus  is  to  be 
credited,  demoniac  possession  was  common  at 
this  period,  and  exorcism  by  the  Jews  them- 
selves not  unfrequent.  But  when  a  dumb  devil 
was  cast  out,  and  instantly  the  man  began  to 
speak,  we  are  told  that  in  one  instance  "  the 
multitudes  marvelled,  saying.  It  was  never  so 
seen  in  Israel  ;"*  and  in  another,  "  All  the 
people  were  amazed,  and  said.  Is  not  this  the 
Son  of  David  ?"f  Here  for  the  first  time  was 
an   open   expression  of  an   incipient  faith   in 

•  Matt.  ix.  33.  +  Matt.  xii.  23. 


With  the  Phaeisees.  155 

Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  who  was  known  and 
spoken  of  ah  over  Judea  as  the  Son  of  David. 
Whatever  his  words  and  actions  might  have 
imphed,  Jesus  had  never  taken  this  title  to 
himself — never  claimed  to  be  the  Messiah ;  but 
now  the  people  of  themselves  began  to  think 
that  it  must  be  so — that  by  none  other  than  he 
could  works  like  these  be  done.  The  man 
whose  character  the  Pharisees  had  been  at- 
tempting to  malign,  whose  influence  with  the 
people  thej  had  been  doing  their  utmost  to 
undermine,  is  not  only  hailed  as  a  teacher  sent 
from  God,  but  as  a  prophet,  nay,  more  than  a 
prophet,  the  very  Son  of  David.  What  is  to 
be  said  and  done?  The  facts  of  the  case  they 
do  not,  they  cannot,  deny.  That  the  man's 
dumbness  had  been  nothing  but  a  common 
dumbness,  that  there  had  been  no  evil  spirit  in 
him  to  be  cast  out  of  him,  they  do  not  venture 
to  suggest.  Those  ingenious  Scribes  that  have 
come  down  from  Jerusalem  can  see  but  one 
way  out  of  the  difficulty.  They  do  not  hesitate 
to  suggest  it,  nor  their  friends  beside  them  to 
adopt  it ;  and  so  they  go  about  the  crowd  that 
is  standing  lost  in  wonder,  saying  contemptu- 
ously, "This  fellow  doth  not  cast  out  devils  but 
by  Beelzebub,  the  Prince  of  the  Devils."     A 


156  The  Collision 

wine-bibber,  a  gluttonous  man,  a  friend  of  pub- 
licans and  sinners,  a  Sabbath-breaker,  a  blas- 
phemer, they  had  called  him,  but  here  is  the 
last  and  vilest  thing  that  calumny  can  say  of 
him — that  he  is  in  league  with  Satan,  and  that 
it  is  to  his  connexion  with  the  devil,  and  to 
that  alone,  that  he  owes  all  his  wisdom  and  his 
power.  How  does  Jesus  meet  this  calumny? 
How  does  he  speak  of  and  to  the  men  who 
were  guilty  of  forging  and  circulating  it?  They 
were  busy  among  the  crowd,  secretly  propa- 
gating the  slander,  but  they  must  not  think 
that  he  was  unconscious  or  careless  of  what 
they  were  saying  of  him.  He  calls' them  unto 
him,*  and  they  come.  His  accusers  and  he 
stand  forth  before  the  assembled  multitude, 
fairly  confronted.  First,  in  the  simplest,  plain- 
est manner,  obviously  for  the  sake  of  convinc- 
ing any  of  the  simple-minded  people  who  might 
be  ready  to  adopt  this  new  solution  of  the 
secret  of  his  power,  he  exposes  its  foolishness 
and  injustice.  There  was,  he  assumes,  a  prince 
of  the  devils,  who  had  a  kingdom  of  his  own, 
opposed  to  the  kingdom  of  God.  That  king- 
dom of  darkness  might  admit  of  much  internal 

*  Mark  iii.  23. 


With  the  Pharisees.  157 

discord,  but  in  one  thing  it  was  and  must  ever 
be  united— in  its  antagonism  to  the  kmgdom 
of  Ught.     No  more  than  any  other  kingdom, 
or  city,  or  house,  could  it  stand,  were  it,  in 
that  respect,  divided  against  itself.     Yet  it  was 
such  kind  of  division  that  these  Pharisees  were 
attributing  to  it.     Their  own  sons  undertook  to 
cast  out  devils  :  was  it  by  Beelzebub  that  they 
did  it  ?     If  not,  why  cast  the  imputation  of  do- 
ing  so    upon  him?     None  but   a   strong  one 
could  enter  the  house  of  the  human  spirit,  as 
the  devil  was  seen  to  enter  it  in  these  cases  of 
possession.     It  must   be    a   stronger   than   he 
who  binds  him,  and  casts  him  forth,  and  strips 
him  of  all  his  spoils.     This  was  what  they  had 
just  seen  Jesus  do  ;  and  if  he,  by  the  mighty 
power  of  God,  had  done  so,  then  no  doubt  the 
kingdom  was   come   unto  them — come  in  his 
person,  his  teaching,  his  work.     He — Jesus 
stood  now  the  visible  head  and  representative 
of  the   kingdom,  in  the   midst   of  them.     To 
come  to  him  was  to  enter  that  kingdom— to  be 
with  him  was  to  be  on  the  side  of  that  kingdom ; 
and  such  was  its  nature,  such    the  claims  he 
made,  that  there    could  be   no    neutrality,  no 
middle  ground  to  be  occupied.     He  that  was 
not  with  him  was  against  him ;  he  that  gath- 


158  The  Collision 

ered  not  with  him  was  scattering  abroad. 
Much  there  was  in  the  spirit  and  conduct  of 
many  then  before  him  whom  the  apphcation  of 
this  test  must  bring  in  as  guilty ;  but  let  them 
know  that  all  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy 
might  be  forgiven.  In  ignorance  and  unbelief 
they  might  speak  against  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
yet  not  put  themselves  beyond  the  pale  of 
mercy;  but  in  presence  of  that  Divine  spirit 
and  power  in  which  he  spake  and  acted,  not 
only  to  ignore  it,  but  to  misrepresent  and 
malign  it,  as  these  Pharisees  had  done,  was  to 
enter  upon  a  path  of  willful,  perverse  resistance 
to  the  Spirit  of  God,  which,  if  pursued,  would 
land  the  men  who  took  and  followed  it  in  a 
guilt  for  which  there  would  be  no  forgiveness, 
either  here  or  hereafter ;  no  forgiveness,  not 
because  any  kind  or  degree  of  guilt  could  ex- 
haust the  Divine  mercy  or  exceed  its  power, 
but  because  the  pursuers  of  such  a  path,  sooner 
or  later,  would  reach  such  a  state  of  mind,  and 
heart,  and  habit,  that  all  chance  or  hope  of 
their  ever  being  disposed  to  fulfill,  or  capable 
of  fulfilling,  those  conditions  upon  which  alone 
mercy  is  or  can  be  dispensed,  would  vanish  away. 
The  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  which 
never  hath  foi-giveness,  lies  not  in  any  single 


With  the  Phaeisees.  159 

word  or  deed.  Jesus,  though  not  obscurely 
hinting  that  in  the  foul  calumny  that  had  been 
uttered  there  lay  the  elements  of  the  unpar- 
donable offence,  does  not  distinctly  say  that 
the  men  before  him  never  would  or  could  be 
forgiven  for  uttering  it.  His  words  are  words 
of  warning;  rather  than  of  judgment.  A  mon- 
strous accusation  had  been  made,  one  in  which 
if  the  men  who  made  it  persevered,  they  would 
be  displaying  thereby  the  very  temper  and 
spirit  of  such  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  never  would  be  forgiven.  It  was  out 
of  an  evil  heart  that  the  evil  word  had  been 
spoken.  It  was  by  a  corrupt  tree  that  this 
corrupt  fruit  had  been  borne,  and  the  heart 
would  get  worse,  the  tree  more  rotten,  unless' 
now  made  better.  Such  bitter  words  of  un- 
godly malice  and  despite  as  the  Pharisees  had 
spoken,  were  but  outward  indices  of  the  state 
of  things  within.  Yet  such  good  signs  were 
words  in  general,  that  "Yerily,"  said  Jesus. 
"  I  say  unto  you,  ....  By  thy  words  thou  shalt 
be  justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be 
condemned." 

The  men  whom  Jesus  thus  publicly  rebuked 
— characterizing  them  as  a  generation  of  vipers 
• — ^for  the  moment  were  silenced.    Some  of  their 


160  The  Collision 

party,  however,  now  interposed.  Jesus  had  un- 
equivocally asserted  that  his  works  had  been 
wrought  hy  none  other  than  the  mighty  power 
of  God.  Let  Him  prove  this  as  Moses,  Joshua, 
Samuel,  Elijah  had  done.  The  works  them- 
selves were  not  enough  to  do  this.  The  popu- 
lar belief  was  that  demons  and  false  gods  could 
work  signs  on  earth.  It  was  the  true  God  only 
who  could  give  signs  from  heaven.  Such  a  sign 
they  had  asked  Christ  to  show.*  "  The  people 
gathered  thick  together,"  we  are  told,  to  hear 
Christ's  answer  ;  but,  as  at  other  times  when 
the  same  demand  was  made,  our  Lord  would 
point  to  no  other  sign  than  that  of  the  most  re- 
markable foreshadowing  in  Old  Testament  times 
of  his  own  resurrection  from  the  dead.  This 
allusion  to  the  extraordinary  incident  in  the 
history  of  Jonas  was  doubly  unsatisfactory  to 
his  hearers.  It  was  no  sign  from  above,  but 
rather  one  from  below.  It  was  a  sign  of  that 
of  which  they  had  as  yet  no  conception — in 
which  they  had  no  faith — it  carried  with  it  to 
them  no  additional  or  confirmatory  evidence. 
No  other  sign,  however,  was  to  be  given  to  a 
generation  which  was  acting  worse  than   the 

Luke  ix.,  16. 


With  the  Phaeisees.  161 

heathen  inhabitants  of  Nineveh,  the  Gentile 
queen  of  the  south  j  a  greater  than  Jonas,  a 
greater  than  Solomon,  was  among  them,  yet 
they  despised  his  wisdom  and  would  not  repent 
at  his  call.  A  brighter  light  than  had  ever 
dawned  upon  them  was  now  shining^nay,  was 
set  up  conspicuously  for  them  to  behold  it ; 
but  there  must  be  an  eye  within  to  see,  as  well 
as  a  light  without  to  look  at,  before  any  true 
illumination  can  take  place.  And  if  that  eye  be 
evil — be  in  any  way  incapacitated  for  true  dis- 
cernment, whatever  the  external  effulgence  be, 
the  body  remains  fuU  of  darkness.  Even  such 
a  darkness  was  now  settling  over  a  people  who 
were  going  to  present  but  too  sad  a  type  of 
what  was  sometimes  seen  in  cases  of  demoniac 
possession,  when  an  unclean  spirit,  for  a  time 
cast  out,  returned  with  seven  other  spirits  more 
wicked  than  itself  From  amongst  the  Jewish 
people,  from  and  after  the  Babylonish  captiv- 
ity, the  old  demon  of  idolatry  had  been  ejected. 
For  a  time  the  house  had  been  swept  and  gar- 
nished, but  now  a  sevenfold  worse  infatuation 
was  coming  upon  this  generation,  to  drive  it  on 
to  a    deadlier  catastrophe. 

The  exciting  intelligence  that  in  the  presence 
of  a  vast  multitude  Jesus  had  been  accused  by 


162  The  Collision 

the  Pharisees  of  being  nothing  else  than  an 
emissary  and  ally  of  the  devil  ;  that,  not  satis- 
fied with  defending  himself  against  the  charge, 
he  had  in  turn  become  their  accuser,  and  bro- 
ken out  into  the  most  open  and  unrestrained 
denunciation  of  their  whole  order ;  that  the  feud 
which  for  months  past  had  been  secretly  gath- 
ering strength  had  ended  at  last  in  open  rup- 
ture, was  carried  to  the  house  in  which  Mary 
and  the  Lord's  brothers  were  dwelling.  A  fatal 
thing  it  seems  to  them  for  him  to  have  plunged 
into  such  a  deadly  strife  with  the  most  power- 
ful party  in  the  country.  They  will  try  what 
they  can  to  draw  him  out  of  it.  They  hasten 
to  the  spot  and  find  the  crowd  so  large,  the 
press  so  great,  that  they  cannot  get  near  him. 
They  send  their  message  in  to  him.  "Behold !" 
says  one  who  is  standing  next  to  Jesus,  "thy 
mother  and  thy  brethren  stand  without,  desir- 
ing to  speak  with  thee."  A  mother  who  if  fond 
enough  was  yet  so  fearful,  who  once  before  had 
tried  to  dictate  to  him,  and  had  been  checked 
at  Cana  ;  brethren,  who  thought  that  he  was 
beside  himself,  none  of  whom  as  yet  believed 
on  hira — what  right  had  they  to  interrupt  him 
at  his  work — to  move  him  from  his  purpose  ? 
*'  Who  is  my  mother?"  said  he  to  the  man  who 


With  the  Phaiiisees.  163 

conveyed  to  him  the  message,  "  and  who  are 
my  brethren?  Then  pausing,  looking  "round 
about  on  them  which  sat  about  him,"  stretching 
forth  his  hands  towards  his  disciples — "Behold!" 
he  exclaimed,  "  my  mother  and  my  brethren ! 
For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother."  A  woman  in  the  crowd, 
who  has  been  standing  lost  in  a  mere  human 
admiration  of  him,  hears  his  mother  spoken  of, 
and  cannot  in  the  fullness  of  her  womanly  emo- 
tion but  call  her  blessed  :  "  Yea,  rather  bless- 
ed," said  Jesus  to  her,  "  are  they  that  hear  the 
word  of  God,  and  keep  it." 

So,  when  in  the  very  heart  of  his  mission- 
work  on  earth  they  spake  to  him  about  the 
closest  human  ties,  his  nearest  earthly  relatives 
— close  as  these  were,  and  willing  as  he  was  in 
their  own  mode  and  sphere  to  acknowledge 
them,  so  resolutely  did  Jesus  wave  them  aside, 
so  sublimely  did  he  rise  above,  setting  himself 
forth  as  the  elder  brother  of  that  whole  family  in 
heaven  and  earth  named  by  his  name,  and  who 
are  followers  in  the  footsteps  of  him  who  came 
not  to  do  his  own  will  but  the  will  of  him  that 
sent  him.  The  earthly  and  the  heavenly  bonds, 
the  common  and  the  Christian  ties,  do  not  always 


164  The  Collision 

coincide,  neither  are  they  always  in  harmony. 
If  ever  they  interfere — if  mother,  or  brother,  or 
sister,  or  dearest  friend  should  once  tempt  us 
away  from  him  in  nearness  to  whom  standeth 
our  eternal  life — then  let  us  remember  the  scene 
in  Capernaum,  and  ask  our  Lord  to  give  us  of 
his  own  Spirit,  here  as  everywhere  to  follow 
him. 

Jesus  did  not  go  out  to  his  mother  and 
brethren  when  they  sent  for  him,  did  not  go 
even  to  their  house  when  fatigue  and  exhaus- 
tion called  for  a  brief  repose.  He  rather  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  of  a  Pharisee  to  take  a 
hurried  repast  in  a  neighboring  dwelling,  the 
multitude  waiting  meanwhile  for  him  without. 
In  haste  to  resume  his  work,  and  knowing 
withal  that  it  was  no  friendly  company  he  was 
asked  to  join,  Jesus  went  in  and  sat  down  at 
once,  neglecting  the  customary  ablutions.  The 
host  and  his  friends  w^ere  not  slow  to  notice  tlie 
neglect,  nor  was  he  less  slow  to  notice  the  sen- 
tence against  him  they  were  passing  in  their 
hearts.  The  men  around  him  here  were  part 
of  that  very  band  whose  vile  imputation  of 
confederacy  with  Satan  had  already  released 
his  lips  from  all  restraint,  and  called  for  and 
vindicated  his  addressing  them  as  he  had  done. 


With  the  Phaeisees.  165 

Nor  does  he  alter  now  his  tone.  We  may  not, 
indeed,  beUeve  that  all  which  St.  Luke,  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  eleventh  chapter  of  his  Gos- 
pel, records  as  spoken  by  him — the  woe  after 
woe  pronounced  upon  the  Pharisees  and  the 
lawyers — was  uttered  indoors,  as  soon  as  he 
had  seated  himself  at  the  table.  Knowing  how 
usual  a  thing  it  is  with  the  three  Synoptical 
Evangelists  to  bring  together  into  one  discourse 
sentences  that  were  uttered  at  different  times 
and  upon  different  occasions,  we  are  inclined 
rather  to  believe  that  the  greater  part  of  it  was 
spoken  after  the  hasty  meal  was  over,  and 
Jesus  stood  once  more  the  centre  of  a  vast 
concourse,  with  Scribes  and  Pharisees  urging 
him  vehemently,  and  provoking  him  to  speak 
many  things,  lying  in  wait  for  him  to  catch 
something  out  of  his  mouth,  that  they  might 
accuse  him.*  They  got  this  out  of  his  mouth, 
that  here  in  Galilee — a  year  and  more  before 
that  memorable  day,  the  last  of  his  public 
ministry,  when  he  stood  within  the  Temple  and 
closed  the  exciting  controversies  with  those  ter- 
rible denunciations  which  St.  Matthew  has  pre- 
served to  us  in  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  his 

*  Lute  xi.  53,  54. 


166  The   Collision 

Gospel,  in  briefer  and  more  compendious 
terms,  the  very  woes  that  were  then  rolled 
over  the  heads  of  the  Pharisees  of  Jerusalem, 
were  rolled  over  theirs  in  Capernaum.  A  new 
phase  of  our  Saviour's  character — very  differ- 
ent from  that  which  we  had  before  us  in  his 
treatment  of  the  penitent  sinner — thus  reveals 
itself  to  our  view  ;  his  firmness,  his  courage, 
his  outspokenness,  the  depth  of  his  indignant 
recoil  from,  the  sternness  of  his  unmitigated 
condemnation  of,  the  inconsistencies,  the  hy- 
pocrisies, the  haughtiness,  the  cruelty,  the 
tyranny  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees.  He  had 
a  right  to  speak  and  act  towards  them  w^hich 
none  but  he  could  have.  He  was  their  xDm- 
niscient  judge,  he  knew  that  in  hating  him 
they  were  hating  his  Father  also,  that  the 
spirit  of  persecution  which  they  displayed 
sprang  from  a  deeper  source  than  mere  per- 
sonal animosity  to  him  as  a  man.  As  no  other 
can  ever  occupy  the  same  position  towards  his 
fellow-men  as  that  in  which  Jesus  stood,  so  to 
no  other  can  his  conduct  here  be  a  guide  or 
precedent.  One  thing  only  remains  for  us  to 
do  :  to  try  to  enter  as  thoroughly  as  we  can 
into  the  entire  harmony  that  there  was  between 
all  the  love,  and  pity,  and  gentleness,  and  com- 


"With  the  Phaeisees.  1C7 

passion  that  he  showed  towards  the  ignorant, 
the  erring,  the  sinful  who  manifested  the  least 
openness  to  conviction,  the  least  disposition  to 
repent  and  believe,  and  that  profound  and,  as 
we  may  call  it,  awful  antipathy  which  he  dis- 
played to  those  who,  built  up  in  their  spiritual 
pride,  under  the  very  cloak  of  a  pretentious 
pietism,  indulged  some  of  the  meanest  and 
most  malignant  passions  of  our  nature,  willfully 
shutting  their  eyes  to  the  hght  of  heaven  that 
was  shining  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  plunging 
on  in  the  darkness  towards  nothing  short  of 
spoken  and  acted  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

But  if  the  forenoon  of  this  long  and  busy 
day  at  Capernaum  was  rendered  remarkable 
by  the  change  of  attitude  which  Jesus  assumed 
towards  the  Pharisees,  its  afternoon  was  ren- 
dered equally  if  not  still  more  remarkable  by 
the  change  of  method  in  addressing  the  mul- 
titude. More  than  half  of  the  term  allotted  to 
his  ministry  in  Galilee  had  now  expired.  The 
temper  of  the  community  towards  him  had 
been  fairly  tried.  The  result  was  sufficiently 
manifest.  Here  beside  him  was  a  small  band 
of  followers — ignorant  yet  willing  to  be  taught ; 
weak  in  faith  but  strong   in  personal  attach- 


168  The  Fiest  Paeabi^es. 

ment  There  against  him  was  a  powerful  and 
numerous  band,  socially,  politically,  religiously, 
the  leaders  of  the  people.  Between  the  two 
lay  the  bulk  of  the  common  people— greatly 
excited  by  his  miracles,  listening  with  wonder 
and  half  approval  to  his  words,  siding  with  him 
rather  than  against  him  in  his  conflict  with  the 
Pharisees.  With  them,  if  we  looked  only  at 
external  indications,  we  should  say  that  he  was 
generally  and  highly  popular.  But  it  was 
popularit}'^  of  a  kind  that  Jesus  had  no  wish  to 
gain,  as  he  had  no  purpose  to  which  to  turn  it. 
Behind  all  the  show  of  outward  attachment  he 
saw  that  there  was  but  httle  discernment  of 
his  true  character,  but  little  disposition  to  re- 
ceive and  honor  him  as  the  Redeemer  of  man- 
kind, but  little  capacity  to  understand  the  more 
secret  things  of  that  spiritual  kingdom  which 
it  was  his  office  to  establish  and  extend.  And 
as  he  had  altered  his  conduct  towards  his  se- 
cret enemies  by  dragging  out  their  opposition 
to  the  light  and  openly  denouncing  them,  so 
now  he  alters  his  conduct  toward  liis  professed 
friends,  by  clothing  his  higher  instructions  to 
them  in  a  new  and  peculiar  garb.  As  he  left 
the  house  in  which  the  hasty  mid-day  meal  was 
taken,  the    crowd   gathered    round    him — in- 


The  Fiest    Paeables.  169 

creased  in  numbers,  a  keener  edge  put  upon 
its  curiosity  by  what  had  just  occurred.     Fol- 
lowed by  this  crowd,  he  goes  down  to  the  lake 
side  ;  finds  the  press  of  the  people  round  about 
him  oppressive  and  inconvenient,  sees  a  boat 
lying  in  close  to  the  beach,  enters  it,  sits  down, 
and,  separated  from  them  by  a  little  strip  of 
water,  addresses   the  multitude  that  lines  the 
shore.     He  speaks  about  a  sower,  and  how  it 
fared  with  the  seed  he  sowed  :  "  some  of  it  fell 
by  the  wayside,  and  some  upon  stony  places, 
and  some  among  thorns,  and  some  upon  good 
soil."     He  speaks  about  a  field  in  which  good 
seed  was  sown  by  day  but  tares  by  night,  and 
how  both  grew  up,  and  some  would  have  them 
separated  ;  but  the  householder  to  whom  the 
field  belonged  would  not  hear  of  it,  but  would 
have   both   grow    together    till    the    harvest. 
He  speaks   of  a   man   casting   seed   into   the 
ground,  and  finding  that  by  night  and  by  day, 
whether  he  slept  or  woke,  was  watching  and 
tending,  or  doing  nothing  about  it,  that  seed 
secretly  grew  up,  he  knew  not  how  ;  he  speaks 
of  the  least  of  seeds  growing  up  into  the  tallest 
of  herbs  ;  of  the  leaven  working  in  the  three 
measures  of  meal  till  the  whole  was  leavened  ; 
and  he  tells  his  hearers  that  the  kingdom  of 


170  The  Fiest    Paeables. 

heaven  is  like  unto  eacli  of  the  things  that  he 
describes.  His  hearers  are  all  greatly  inter- 
ested, for  it  is  about  plain,  familiar  things  of 
the  house,  the  garden,  the  field,  that  he  speaks  : 
and  yet  a  strange  expression  of  mingled  sur- 
prise and  perplexity  sits  upon  every  counte- 
nance. The  disciples  within  the  boat  share 
these  sentiments  equally  with  the  people  upon 
the   shore. 

Nothing  seems  easier  than  to  understand  these 
little  stories  of  common  life  ;  but  why  has  Jesus 
told  them?  What  from  his  lips  can  they  mean? 
What  has  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  do  with 
them  ?  Teaching  by  parables  was  a  comon  way 
of  instruction  with  the  Jewish  Rabbis.  But  it 
had  not  been  in  the  first  instance  adopted  by 
Christ ;  they  had  not  as  yet  heard  a  single  par- 
able from  his  lips  ;  and  now  he  uses  nothing  else 
■ — parable  follows  parable,  as  if  that  were  the 
only  instrument  of  the  teacher  that  Jesus  cared 
to  use.  And  besides  the  entire  novelty  of  his 
employment  of  the  parabolic  method,  there  is 
that  haze,  that  thick  obscurity,  which  covers  the 
real  meaning  of  the  parables  he  utters.  The 
disciples  take  the  first  opportunity  that  offers 
itself  of  speaking  to  him  privately,  and  putting 
to  him  the  question :  "  Why  speakest  thou  to 


The  First  Pabables.  171 

tliein  in  parables  ?"  a  question  wliich  they  would 
have  never  put  but  for  the  circumstance  that 
they  had  never  before  known  him  employ  this 
kind  of  discourse.  Now  mark  the  answer  to 
the  question.  "  Because  it  is  given  unto  you 
to  know  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
but  to  them  it  is  not  given.  For  whosoever 
hath,  to  him  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have 
abundance  ;  but  whosoever  hath  not,  from  him 
shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he  hath.  There- 
fore speak  I  to  them  in  parables  :  because  they 
seeing  see  not,  and  hearmg  they  hear  not,  nei- 
ther do  they  understand.  And  in  them  is  ful- 
filled the  prophecy  of  Esaias,  which  saith,  By 
bearing  ye  shall  hear,  and  shall  not  understand  ; 
and  seeing  ye  shall  see,  and  shall  not  perceive  ; 
for  this  people's  heart  is  waxed  gross  ;  and  their 
ears  are  dull  of  hearing,  and  their  eyes  they 
have  closed  ;  lest  at  any  time  they  should  see 
with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their  ears,  and 
should  understand  with  their  heart,  and  should 
be  converted,  and  I  should  heal  them."* 

It  was  partly  then  for  the  purpose  of  conceal- 
ment that,  upon  this  occasion,  these  parables 
were  spoken.      Those  before  whose  eyes  this 

'^Malt.  xiii.  l-lo. 


172  The  First  Paeables. 

veil  was  drawn  had  already  been  tried  with  a 
dififerent  kind  of  speech.  Most  important  truths 
had  been  announced  to  them  in  the  simplest 
and  plainest  language,  but  they  had  shut  their 
minds  and  hearts  agahist  him.  And  now,  as  a 
righteous  judgment  upon  them  for  having  acted 
thus,  these  mysteries  of  the  kingdom,  which 
might  have  been  presented  to  them  in  another 
and  more  transparent  guise,  are  folded  up  in 
the  concealing  drapery  of  these  parables.  Speak- 
ing generally,  parables  are  meant  to  make  things 
plainer,  not  more  obscure  ;  and  many  of  our 
Lord's  parables,  such  as  those  of  the  good  Sa- 
maritan, the  unjust  judge,  the  Pharisee  and  the 
publican,  it  is  true  that  neither  by  those  who 
first  heard  them  uttered,  nor  by  any  who  have 
read  them  since,  has  there  been  the  slightest 
doubt  or  uncertainty  as  to  their  meaning.  But 
there  is  another  and  a  larger  class  of  the  para- 
bles of  Christ  to  which  this  description  does  not 
apply,  which  were  not  understood  by  those  to 
whom  they  were  first  addressed,  which  may 
still  be  misunderstood,  which,  instead  of  being 
homely  tales  illustrative  of  the  simplest  moral 
and  religious  truths,  the  simplest  moral  and  re- 
ligious duties,  are  figurative  descriptions,  pro- 
phetic allegories,  in  which  the  true  nature  of 


The  Fiest  Paeables.  173 

Christ's  spiritual  kingdom,  the  manner  of  its  es- 
tablishment and  extension,  and  all  its  after  va- 
ried fortunes,  are  portrayed.  It  was  to  this 
class  that  the  parables  just  spoken  by  our  Sa- 
viour belonged.  And  there  was  mercy  as  well 
as  judgment  in  their  employment.  Behind 
tlieir  concealing  drapery  bright  lights  were 
burning,  the  very  darkness  thrown  around  in- 
tended to  stimulate  the  eye  to  a  keener,  stead- 
ier gaze.  As  his  disciples  had  dealt  with  the 
instructions  that  had  previously  come  from  his 
lips  differently  from  those  who  seeing  saw  not, 
hearing  would  not  understand,  so  now  Jesus 
deals  differently  with  them  as  to  the  parables. 
They  appear  to  have  been  at  first  as  much  in 
the  dark  as  to  their  meaning  as  was  the  general 
audience  on  the  shore.  But  they  were  willing, 
even  anxious,  to  be  taught.  When  the  cloud 
came  down  on  the  teachings  of  their  Master, 
and  the  dark  sayings  were  uttered,  they  longed 
to  enter  into  that  cloud  to  gaze  upon  the  Light 
which  burned  within.  They  came  seeking,  and 
they  found  ;  knocking,  and  the  door  was  opened 
to  them.  To  them  it  was  given  to  know  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom,  but  to  the  others,  un- 
caring for  it,  unprepared  for  it,  and  unworthy 
of  it  as  they  were,  it  was  not  given.     By  a  pri- 


174  The  Fiust  Paeables. 

vate  and  full  explanation  of  the  two  first  and 
leading  parables,  those  of  the  Sower,  and  the 
Tares  and  the  Wheat,  Jesus  put  into  his  disci- 
ples' hands  the  key  to  all  the  eight  parables 
that  he  delivered  ;  taught  them  to  see  therein 
the  first  plantation  of  the  Church — the  field,  the 
world — the  good  seed,  the  Word  of  God  ;  the 
entrance  and  the  allowed  continued  presence 
of  obstructions  and  opposition, — the  silent  and 
secret  growth  of  God's  empire  over  human 
hearts  ;  the  small  enlarging  into  the  great ;  its 
pervasive  transforming  power ;  its  preciousness, 
whether  found  after  diligent  search,  or  coming 
into  the  possessor's  hands  almost  at  unawares  j 
the  end  of  all  in  the  gathering  out  of  that  spir- 
itual kingdom  of  the  Lord  of  all  that  should  of- 
fend. 

What  was  true,  locally  and  temporarily,  of 
the  instructions  of  that  single  day,  of  that  small 
section  of  our  Lord's  teaching,  is  true  of  the 
whole  body  of  those  disclosures  of  God  made 
to  us  in  the  Bible.  There  are  things  simple 
and  there  are  things  obscure  ;  things  so  plain 
that  he  who  runs  may  read  ;  things  so  deep 
that  he  only  can  understand  who  has  within 
nim  some  answering  spiritual  consciousness  or 
aspiration,  out  of  which  the  true  interpretation 


The  First  Paeables.  175 

springs.  We  must  first  compass  the  simple 
if  we  would  fathom  the  obscure.  We  must 
receive  into  honest  hearts  and  make  good  use 
of  the  plainest  declarations  of  the  Divine  Word, 
if  we  would  have  that  lamp  kindled  within  us, 
by  whose  hght  the  more  recondite  of  its  sayings 
can  alone  be  understood.  And  if  we  refuse  to 
d4  so,  if  we  will  not  foUow  the  course  here  so 
plainly  marked  out  for  us,  if  we  turn  our  eyes 
from  that  which  they  could  see  if  they  would, 
if  we  stop  our  ears  against  that  which  they 
could  understand,  if  we  follow  not  the  heavenly 
lights  already  given  so  far  as  they  can  carry 
us,  have  we  any  right  to  complain  if  at  last  our 
feet  stumble  upon  the  dark  mountains,  and  we 
look  for  light,  and,  behold,  it  is  turned  into 
darkness?  It  is  in  an  inner,  remote  sanctuary, 
the  true  Shekinah,  where  the  light  of  God's 
gracious  presence  still  shineth,  to  be  approached 
with  a  humble,  tractable  spirit,  the  prayer 
upon  our  lips  and  in  our  heart,  "  What  I  know 
not,  Lord,  teach  thou  me  ;  I  beseech  thee  show 
me  thy  glory."  It  is  not  in  the  intellect,  it  is 
in  the  conscience,  in  the  heart,  that  the  finest 
and  most  powerful  organs  of  spiritual  vision  lie. 
There  are  seals  that  cover  up  many  passages 
and  pages  of  the  Bible,  which  no  light  or  fire 


176  The  First  Parables. 

of  genius  can  dissolve  ;  there  are  hidden  riches 
here  that  no  labor  of  mere  learned  research 
can  get  at  and  spread  forth.  But  those  seals 
melt  like  the  snow-wreath  beneath  the  warm 
breathings  of  desire  and  prayer,  and  those 
riches  drop  spontaneously  into  the  bosom  of 
the  humble  and  the  contrite,  the  poor  and  the 
needy. 

Five  parables  appear  to  have  been  addressed 
by  Jesus  to  the  multitude  from  the  boat,  their 
delivery  broken  by  the  private  explanation  to 
the  disciples  of  the  parable  of  the  Sower. 
Landing,  and  sending  the  multitude  away, 
Jesus  entered  into  the  house.  There  the  dis- 
ciples again  applied  to  him,  and  he  declared 
unto  them  the  parable  of  the  Tares.  There- 
after, the  three  shorter  parables  of  the  Treas- 
ure, the  Pearl,  and  the  Net  were  spoken  to  the 
disciples  by  themselves.  The  long,  laborious 
day  was  now  nearly  over,  and  in  the  dwelling 
which  served  to  him  as  a  home  while  in  Caper- 
naum, he  might  have  sought  and  found  repose. 
Again,  however,  we  see  him  by  the  lake-side  ; 
again,  under  the  pressure  of  the  multitudes. 
Seeking  rest  and  seeing  no  hope  of  it  for  him 
in  Capernaum,  Jesus  said,  "  Let  us  pass  over 
unto  the  other  side."     That  other  eastern  sido 


The  Stilling  of  the  Tempest.  177 

of  the  Lake  of  Galilee  offered  a  singular  con- 
trast to  the  western  one.  Its  wild  and  lonely 
hills,  thinly  peopled  by  a  race,  the  majority  of 
whom  were  Gentiles,  were  seldom  visited  by 
the  inhabitants  of  the  plain  of  Gennesaret. 
Now-a-days  both  sides  of  the  lake  are  desert ; 
yet  still  there  is  but  little  intercourse  between 
them.  Few  travellers  venture  to  traverse  the 
eastern  shore ;  fewer  venture  far  into  the  re- 
gions which  lie  behind,  which  are  now  occupied 
wholly  by  an  Arab  population.  As  offering  to 
him  in  some  one  or  other  of  the  deep  valleys 
which  cleave  its  hills  and  run  down  into  the 
sea,  a  shady  and  secure  retreat  for  a  day  or 
two  from  the  bustle  and  fatigue  of  his  life  in 
Galilee,  Jesus  proposes  a  passage  across  the 
lake.  All  is  soon  ready ;  and  they  hurriedly 
embark,  taking  Jesus  in  "even  as  he  was,'* 
with  no  preparation  for  the  voyage.  It  was, 
however,  but  a  short  sail  of  six  or  eight  miles. 
Night  falls  on  them  by  the  way,  and  with  the 
night  one  of  those  terrible  hurricanes  by  which 
a  lake  which  lies  so  low,  and  is  bounded  on  all 
sides  by  hills,  is  visited  at  times.  The  tempest 
smote  the  waters,  the  waves  ran  high  and 
smote  the  little  bark.  She  reeled  and  swayed, 
and  at  each  lurch  took  in  more  and  more  water 


178  The  StuxiinG  of  the  Tempest. 

till  she  was  nearly  filled,  and  once  filled,  with 
the  next  wave  that  rolls  into  her  she  must  sink. 
They  were  practised  hands  that  navigated  this 
boat,  who  knew  well  the  lake  in  all  its  moods ; 
not  open  to  unreasonable  fear,  but  now  fear 
comes  upon  them,  and  they  are  ready  to  give 
up  all  hope.  Where  all  this  while  is  he  at 
whose  bidding  they  had  embarked  ?  They  had 
been  too  busy  for  the  time  with  the  urgent 
work  required  by  the  sudden  squaU,  to  think 
of  him ;  the  mantle  of  the  night's  thick  dark- 
ness may  have  hidden  him  from  their  view. 
But  now  in  their  extremity  they  seek  for 
him,  and  find  him  **  in  the  hinder  part  of  the 
ship,  asleep  on  a  pillow."  Unbroken  by  all  the 
noise  of  winds  and  waves  without,  and  all  the 
tumult  of  those  toiling  hands  within,  how  quiet 
and  deep  must  that  rest  of  the  wearied  one 
have  been  1  They  have  some  difficulty  in 
awaking  him,  and  they  do  it  somewhat  roughly. 
"Master!  Master!"  they  cry  to  him,  "save 
us !  We  perish !  Carest  thou  not  that  we 
perish?"  With  a  word  of  rebuke  for  their 
great  fear  and  little  faith,  Jesus  rises,  and 
speaking  to  the  boisterous  elements  as  one 
might  speak  to  a  boisterous  child,  he  says  to 
the   winds  and   the   waves,  "Peace,  be  still!" 


The  Stilling  of  the  Tempest,  179 

Nature  owns  at  once  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Lord.  The  wmds  cease  their  blowing — the 
waves  subside — instantly  there  is  a  great  calm. 
Those  who  had  sought  and  roused  the  sleeping 
Saviour  fall  back  into  their  former  places, 
resume  their  former  work  ;  at  the  measured 
stroke  of  their  oars  the  little  vessel  glides 
silently  over  the  placid  waters.  All  quiet  now, 
where  but  a  few  minutes  before  all  was  tumult ; 
few  words  are  spoken  during  the  rest  of  the 
voyage,  the  rowers  only  whispering  to  each 
other  as  they  rowed  :  "  What  manner  of  man 
is  this,  that  even  the  winds  and  the  waves  obey 
him  ?" 

Jesus  lying  this  moment  under  the  weak- 
ness of  exhausted  strength,  rising  the  next  in 
all  the  might  of  manifested  omnipotence  :  in 
close  proximity,  in  quick  succession,  the  hu- 
manity and  the  divinity  that  were  in  him  ex- 
hibited themselves.  Though  suddenly  roused 
to  see  himself  in  a  position  quite  new  to  him, 
and  evidently  of  great  peril,  Jesus  had  no  fear. 
His  first  thought  is  not  of  the  danger,  his  first 
word  is  not  to  the  tempest,  his  first  care  is  not 
for  the  safety  of  the  body,  it  is  for  the  state  of 
the  spirit  of  those  who  wake  him  from  his 
slumbers  ;  nor  is  it  until  he  has  rebuked  their 


ISO  The  Sttt.t.tng  of  the  Tempest. 

fears  that  he  removes  the  cause,  but  then  he 
does  so,  and  does  it  effectually,  by  the  word  of 
his  power.  And  so  long  as  the  life  we  are  liv- 
ing shall  be  thought  and  spoken  of  as  a  voy- 
age, so  long  shall  this  night  scene  on  the  lake 
of  Galilee  supply  the  imagery  by  which  many 
a  passage  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and 
many  in  the  liistor}*  of  the  individual  believer, 
shall  be  illustrated.  Sleeping  or  waking,  let 
Christ  be  in  the  vessel  and  it  is  safe.  The 
tempest  may  come,  our  faith  be  small,  our  fear 
be  great,  but  still  if  in  our  fear  we  have  so 
much  faith  as  to  cry  to  him  to  save  us,  still 
in  the  hour  of  our  greatest  need  will  he  arise 
to  our  help,  and  though  he  may  have  to  blame 
us  for  not  cherishing  a  livelier  trust  and  mak- 
ing an  earher  application,  he  will  not  sniffer  the 
winds  or  the  waves  to  overwhelm  us. 

The  storm  is  past,  the  night  is  over,  the 
morning  dawns,  the  opposite  coast  of  the  Ga- 
darenes  is  reached.  Here,  then,  in  these  lonely 
places  there  will  be  some  rest  for  Jesus,  some 
secure  repose  ?  Not  yet,  not  instantly.  Soon 
as  he  lands,  immediately,  from  some  neighbor- 
ing place  of  graves*  there  comes  forth  a  wild 

•  As  to  the  loo;vlity  in  which  the  miracle  was  wrought  see  nota 
at  the  end  of  the  Tolmue. 


The  Stilling  of  the  Tempest.  181 

and  frenzied  man,  a  man  possessed  by  many 
devils  ;  for  a  long  time  so  possessed,  exceeding 
fierce  so  that  no  man  could  tame  him.  They 
had  bound  him  with  fetters  and  with  chains  ; 
the  fetters  he  had  plucked  asunder,  the  chains 
had  been  broken  by  him.  Flying  from  the 
haunts  of  men,  flinging  off  all  his  garments,  the 
naked,  howling  maniac  lies  day  and  night 
among  the  tombs,  crying  and  cutting  himself 
with  stones  ;  so  fiercely  assaulting  all  who  ap- 
proached him  that  no  man  might  pass  by  that 
way.  From  his  lair  among  the  graves  the 
devil-haunted  madman  rushes  upon  Jesus. 
His  neighbors  had  all  fled  terrified  before  him. 
This  stranger  who  has  just  landed  flies  not, 
but  tranquilly  contemplates  his  approach.  He 
who  had  so  lately  brought  the  great  calm 
down  into  the  bosom  of  the  troubled  lake,  is 
about  now  to  infuse  a  greater  calm  into  this 
troubled  spirit.  The  voice  that  an  hour  or  two 
before  had  said  to  the  winds  and  the  waves, 
"  Peace,  be  still,''  has  already  spoken,  while 
yet  the  poor  demoniac  is  afar  ofi",  to  the  pos- 
sessing devil  that  is  within,  and  said,  "  Come 
out  of  him,  thou  unclean  spirit."  If  under- 
neath that  dark  and  terrible  tyranny  of  the 
indwehing  demons  there  still  survived  within 


/ 

182  The  Demoniac  of  Gadaka. 

the  man  some  spark  of  his  native  independence, 
some  gUmmering  consciousness  of  what  he 
once  had'  been  and  might  be  again,  were  but 
those  usurpers  of  the  spirit  quieted  ;  if  some- 
thing of  the  old  man  still  were  there,  crouch- 
ing, groaning,  travailing  beneath  the  intoler- 
able pressure  that  drove  him  into  madness — 
what  a  new  and  strange  sensation  must  have 
entered  this  region  of  his  consciousness  when 
the  devils  which  had  been  rioting  within  him, 
claiming  and  using  him  as  all  their  own, 
heard  that  word  of  Jesus,  and  in  their  terror 
began  to  cry  out,  as  in  the  presence  of  one 
their  acknowledged  Superior  and  Lord"! 

What  a  new  light  of  hope  must  have  come 
into  that  wild  and  haggard  eye  as  it  gazed  upon 
that  m3^sterious  being,  hailed  by  the  devils  as 
the  Son  of  the  Most  High  God !  His  relief, 
indeed,  was  not  immediate ;  the  devils  did  not 
at  once  depart.  There  was  a  short  and  singu- 
lar colloquy  between  Christ  and  them.  They 
beseech,  they  adjure  him  not  to  torment  them 
before  the  time,  not  to  send  them  down  at  once 
into  the  abyss,  or  if  he  were  determined  to 
give  liberty  to  their  human  captive,  then  not 
to  drive  them  from  the  neighborhood,  which, 
perhaps,  was  their  only  earthly  allotted  haunt, 


The  Demoniac  of  Gadaea.  183 

but  to  suffer  them  to  enter  into  a  neighboring 
herd  of  swine.  The  permission  was  given. 
They  entered  into  the  swine — how  we  know 
not,  operating  upon  them  how  and  with  wliat 
intent  we  know  not.  All  we  have  before  us  is 
the  fact,  that  the  whole  herd  ran  violently 
down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea,  and  perished 
in  the  waters.  What  became  of  the  devils 
then  ?  As  the  dumb  beasts  went  down  into 
the  waters,  did  they  go  down  into  a  darker, 
deeper  depth,  to  be  kept  there  in  chains  and 
darkness  to  the  judgment  of  the  great  day? 
It  is  not  said  that  the  devils  purposely 
destroyed  the  swine.  It  no  doubt  was  their  en- 
trance and  the  frenzy  into  which  that  entrance 
drove  the  animals,  that  made  them  plunge  head- 
long into  the  lake.  But  who  shall  tell  us  whether 
in  their  reckless  and  intense  love  of  mischief 
the  foul  spirits  did  not  here  outwit  themselves, 
creating  an  impulse  that  they  could  not  curb, 
destroying  the  new  habitation  they  had  chosen, 
and  by  their  own  inconsistent  and  suicidal  acts 
bringing  down  upon  themselves  the  very  fate 
from  which  they  had  prayed  to  be  delivered  ? 
We  know  far  too  little  of  the  world  of  spirits 
to  affirm  or  to  deny  here  ;  far  too  little  for  us 
either  mockingly  to  reject  the  whole  as  an  idle 


184  The  Dfmoniao  of  Gadara. 

tale,  or  presumingly  to  speculate  as  if  the  mys- 
teries of  the  great  kingdom  of  darkness  stood 
revealed.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  whatevei 
was  the  design  or  anticipation  of  the  devils  in 
entering  into  the  swine,  the  result  must  have 
been  known  to  Jesus.  Knowing  then,  before- 
hand, how  great  the  destruction  here  of  prop- 
erty and  animal  life  would  be,  why  was  the 
permission  given  ?  We  shall  answer  that  ques- 
tion when  any  man  will  tell  us  how  many 
swine  one  human  spirit  is  worth — why  devils 
were  permitted  to  enter  anywhere  or  do  any 
mischief  upon  this  earth — why  such  large  and 
successive  losses  of  human  and  bestial  life  are 
ever  suffered,  the  agencies  producing  which  are 
as  much  under  the  control  of  the  Creator  as 
these  devils  were  under  that  of  Christ.  To 
take  up  the  one  single  instance  in  which  jou. 
can  connect  the  loss  of  life,  not  directly  with 
the  personal  agency  but  evidently  with  the  per- 
mission of  the  Saviour,  and  to  take  exception 
to  that,  while  the  mystery  of  the  large  suffer- 
ance of  sin  and  misery  in  this  world  lies  spread 
out  everywhere  before  and  around  us,  is  it  not 
unreasonable  and  unfair?  We  do  not  deny 
that  there  is  a  difficulty  here.  We  are  not 
offering  any  explanation  of  this  difficulty  that 


The  Demoniac  of  Gadaea.  185 

we  consider  to  be  satisfactory.  We  are  only 
pleading,  first,  that  in  such  ignorance  as  ours 
IS,  and  with  a  thousand  times  greater  difficul- 
ties everywhere  besetting  our  faith  in  God, 
this  single  difficulty  should  throw  no  impedi- 
ment in  the  way  of  our  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 

The  keepers  of  the  herd,  who  had  waited  to 
see  the  issue,  went  and  told  in  the  adjoining 
village  and  in  the  country  round  about  all  that 
had  happened.  At  the  tidings  the  whole  pop- 
ulation of  the  neighborhood  came  out  to  meet 
Jesus.  They  found  him,  with  the  man  who 
had  been  possessed  with  devils,  in  the  manner 
they  all  knew  so  well,  sitting  at  his  feet — al- 
ready clothed,  in  his  right  mind,  all  traces  of 
the  possession,  save  the  marks  of  the  bonds  and 
of  the  fetters,  gone.  They  were  alarmed,  an- 
noyed, offiinded  at  what  had  happened.  There 
was  a  mystery  about  the  man,  who  had  such 
power  over  the  world  of  spirits,  and  used  it  in 
such  a  way,  that  repelled  rather  than  attracted 
them.  They  might  have  thought  and  felt  differ- 
ently had  they  looked  aright  at  their  poor  af- 
fficted  brother,  upon  whom  such  a  happy  change 
had  been  wrought.  But  they  thought  more  of 
the  swine  that  had  perished  than  of  the  man 
that  had  been  saved  j  and  they  besought  Jesus 


186  The  Demoniac  op  Gadaea. 

to  depart  out  of  their  coasts.  He  did  not  need 
to  have  the  entreaty  addressed  to  him  a  second 
time  ;  he  comphed  at  once — prepared  immedi- 
ately to  re-embark,  and  we  do  not  read  that  he 
ever  returned  to  that  region  again — they  never 
had  another  opportunity  of  seeing  and  hearing 
liim.  Nor  is  it  the  habit  of  Jesus  to  press  his 
presence  upon  the  unwilHng.  Still  he  has  many 
v^ays  of  coming  into  our  coasts,  and  still  have 
we  many  ways  of  intimating  to  him  our  unwil- 
lingness that  he  should  abide  there.  He  knows 
how  to  interpret  the  inward  turning  away  of 
our  thoughts  and  heart  from  him — he  knows 
when  the  unspoken  language  of  any  human 
spirit  to  him  is — Depart ;  and  if  he  went  away 
80  readily  when  asked  on  earth,  who  shall  as- 
sure us  that  he  may  not  as  readily  take  us  at 
our  word,  and  when  we  wish  it, — go,  go  it  may 
be,  never  to  return  ? 

Christ  heard  and  at  once  complied  with  the 
request  of  the  Gadarenes.  But  there  w^as  an- 
other petition  presented  to  him  at  the  same 
time,  with  which  he  did  not  comply.  From 
the  moment  that  he  had  been  healed,  the  de- 
moniac had  never  left  his  side — never  thought 
of  parting  from  him — never  desired  to  return  to 
home,  or  friends,  or  kindred.     A  bond  stronger 


The  Demoniac  of  Gadaea.  187 

than  all  others  bound  him  to  his  deliverer. 
When  he  saw  Jesus  make  the  movement  to  de- 
part, he  accompanied  him  to  the  shore  ;  he  went 
with  him  to  the  boat.  And  as  he  fell  there  at 
his  feet,  we  can  almost  fancy  him  taking  up 
Ruth's  words,  and  saying,  "Entreat  me  not  to 
leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following  after 
thee  :  for  whitlier  thou  goest,  I  will  go  ;  and 
where  thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge  ;  thy  people 
shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God." 
He  is  ready — he  is  anxious  to  forsake  all  and 
follow  Jesus,  but  he  is  not  permitted.  "  Go 
home  to  thine  own  house  and  to  thy  friends," 
said  Jesus  to  him,  "and  tell  them  how  great 
things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  thee,  and  hath 
had  compassion  on  thee." 

It  was  to  a  heathen  home — to  friends  that 
knew  little  about  the  Lord,  and  cared  little  for 
such  knowledge,  to  whom  he  was  to  go.  No 
small  trial  to  be  torn  thus  from  the  Sa- 
\'iour's  side,  to  go  and  reside  daily  among 
those  who  had  sent  the  Saviour  away  from 
I  hem.  But  he  did  it — did  more  even  than  he 
was  told  to  do  ;  not  in  his  own  house  alone, 
nor  among  his  own  friends  alone,  but  through- 
out the  whole  Gentile  district  of  Decapolis  he 
published  abroad  the  great  things  that  Jesus 


188  The  Demoniac  of  Gadaea. 

had  done  for  him.  Better  for  the  man  himself 
— too  long  accustomed  to  dwell  alone,  taking 
a  tincture  of  the  solitary  places  in  which  he 
dwelt  into  his  own  spirit,  to  mix  thus  freely 
and  widely  with  his  fellow-men  ;  and  better 
undoubtedly  it  was  for  those  among  whom  he 
lived — acting  as  the  representative  of  him 
whom  in  person  they  had  rejected,  but  who 
seem  to  have  lent  a  more  willing  ear  to  the 
man  of  their  own  district  and  kindred,  for  we 
are  told  that  as  he  spake  of  Jesus,  "all  men 
did  marvel,"  and  some,  let  us  hope,  did  be- 
heve. 

Let  one  closing  glance  be  given  at  the  strange 
picture  which  this  passage  in  our  Saviour's  life 
presents.  It  abounds  in  lights  and  shadows,  in 
striking  contrasts — the  meanest  selfishness  con- 
fronted with  the  purest,  noblest  love.  Keckless 
frenzy,  abject  terror,  profound  attention,  devot- 
ed attachment,  rapidly  succeed  each  other  in 
him  who,  brought  into  closest  union  with  the 
highest  and  the  lowest  of  the  powers  of  the 
spiritual  world,  presents  to  us  a  condensed  epi- 
tome of  the  great  conflict  between  good  and 
evil — between  Christ  and  Satan — in  the  do- 
main of  the  human  spirit.  Undoubtedly  it 
stands  the  most  remarkable  instance  of  dispos- 


The  Demoniac  of  Gadaea.  189 

session  in  the  gospel  narrative,  revealing  to  us 
at  once  the  depth  of  that  degradation  to  which 
our  poor  humanity  may  sink,  and  the  height 
of  that  elevation  to  which,  through  the  power 
and  infinite  compassion  of  the  Saviour,  it  may 
be  raised.  Was  it  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
us  more  manifestly  that  Jesus  came  to  destroy 
the  works  of  the  devil,  that  in  that  age  of  His 
appearance  devils  were  permitted  to  exercise 
strange  dominion  over  men  ?  Was  it  to  bring 
into  visible  and  personal  collision  the  heads  of 
the  two  opposite  spiritual  communities — the 
Prince  of  Light  and  the  Prince  of  Darkness — 
and  to  make  more  visible  to  aU  men  the  supre- 
macy of  the  one  over  the  other  ?  Was  it  that  as 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  rose  in  one  quarter  of 
the  heavens,  upon  the  opposite  a  cloud  of  un- 
wonted blackness  and  darkness  was  allowed  to 
gather,  that  with  all  the  greater  brightness  there 
might  shine  forth  the  bow  of  promise  for  our 
race?  Whatever  be  the  explanation,  the  fact 
lies  before  us  that  demoniacal  possessions  did 
then  take  place,  and  were  not  continued.  But 
though  the  spirits  of  evil  are  not  allowed  in  that 
particular  manner  to  occupy  and  torment,  and 
degrade  us,  have  they  been  withdrawn  from  all 
access  to,  and  all  influence  over  our  souls?   With 


190  The  Demoniac  of  Gadaka. 

so  many  hints  given  us  in  the  Holy  Scriptures 
that  we  wrestle  not  with  flesh  and  blood  alone, 
but  with  angels  and  principalities  and  powers 
of  darkness — that  there  are  devices  of  Satan  of 
which  it  becomes  us  not  to  remain  ignorant — 
that  the  great  adversary  goeth  about  seeking 
whom  he  may  devour  ;  with  the  command  laid 
upon  us,  Resist  the  devil  and  he  will  flee  from 
you ;  with  the  promise  given,  The  Lord  shall 
bruise  Satan  under  your  feet  shortly  ;  are  we 
not  warranted  to  believe,  and  should  we  not  be 
ever  acting  on  the  conviction,  that  our  souls  are 
the  sphere  of  an  unseen  conflict,  in  which  rival 
sjiirits  are  struggling  for  mastery  ?  When  some 
light-winged  fancy  carries  ofi*  the  seed  of  the 
word  as  it  drops  in  our  soul,  may  not  that  fancy 
have  come  at  Satan's  call,  and  be  doing  Satan's 
work  ?  When  the  pleasures,  and  honors,  and 
riches  of  this  world  are  invested  with  a  false  and 
seductive  splendor,  and  we  are  tempted  to  pur- 
sue them  as  our  chief  good,  may  he  not  have  a 
hand  in  our  temptation  who  held  out  the  king- 
doms of  this  world  and  all  the  glory  of  them 
before  the  Saviour's  eye  ?  But  however  it  may 
be  with  evil  spirits,  we  know  that  evil  passions 
have  their  haunt  and  home  within  our  hearts. 
These,  as  a  strong  man  armed,  keep  the  house 


The  Demoniac  of  Gadaka.  191 

till  the  stronger  than  they  appears.  That 
stronger  one  is  Christ.  To  him  let  us  bring  our 
souls  ;  and  if  it  please  him  to  bid  any  unclean 
spirit  go  forth,  at  his  feet  let  us  be  sitting,  and 
may  he  make  us  willing,  whatever  our  own  de- 
sire might  be,  to  go  wherever  he  would  have 
us  go,  and  do  whatever  he  would  have  us  do. 


J 


IX. 


THE   MISSION   OF   THE   TWELVE.' 

GSUS  returned  across  the  lake  from  Gadara 
to  resume  his  labors  in  Galilee.  The  cir- 
cuit through  its  southern  towns  and  villages  on 
which  he  now  embarked  was  the  last  he  was  to 
make.  He  looked  on  the  multitudes  that 
gathered  round  him  with  a  singular  compassion. 
Spiritually  to  his  eye  they  were  as  sheep  scat- 
tered abroad,  who  when  he  left  them  would  be 
without  a  shepherd.  "  The  harvest,"  said  he 
to  his  disciples,  "  truly  is  plenteous,  but  the  la- 
borers are  few.  Pray  ye  therefore  the  Lord 
of  the  harvest,  that  he  will  send  forth  laborers 
unto  his  harvest."  But  was  he  not  himself  the 
Lord  of  the  harvest,  and  had  he  no  laborers  to 
Bend  forth  ? 

Laborers   sufficiently    numerous,  sufficiently 

•  Matt  ix.  35-38  ;  x.  ;  Mark  vi.  7-30 ;  Luke  ix.  1-9. 


The  Mission  or  the  Twelve.  193 

trained,  there  were  not ;  but  there  were  those 
twelve  men  whom  he  had  chosen,  who  had  for 
many  months  been  continually  by  his  side.  He 
can  send  them  ;  not  permanently,  for  as  yet 
they  were  comparatively  unqualified  for  the 
work.  Besides,  to  separate  them  finally  from 
himself  would  be  to  disqualify  them  for  the 
office  which  they  afterwards  were  to  exer- 
cise, of  being  the  reporters  of  his  chief  say- 
ings, the  witnesses  of  all  the  leading  actions  of 
bis  life.  But  he  can  send  them  on  a  brief 
preliminary  experimental  tour,  one  happy 
effect  of  which  would  be,  that  the  townsmen 
and  villagers  of  Galilee  shall  have  one  more 
opportunity  afforded  them  of  hearing  the  gos- 
pel of  the  kingdom  announced.  The  hitherto 
close  companionship  of  the  twelve  with  Jesus 
may  have  presented  to  Jewish  eyes  nothing  so 
extraordinary  as  to  attract  much  notice  and 
remark.  Their  great  teachers  had  their  favor- 
ite pupils,  whom  they  kept  continually  beside 
them,  and  whose  services  of  kindness  to  them 
they  gratefully  received  and  acknowledged.  It 
was  something  new,  indeed,  to  see  a  teacher 
acting  as  Jesus  did — setting  up  no  school  in 
in  any  one  separate  locality,  confining  himself 
to  no  one  place  and  to  no  set  times  or  methods  ; 


194  The  Mission  of  the  Twelve. 

discoursing  about  the  kingdom,  week-day  and 
Sabbath-day  ahke,  pubhcly  in  the  synagogue, 
privately  at  the  supper-table,  on  roadside  and 
lakeside,  from  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  the 
brow  of  the  mountain.  And  always  close  to 
him  these  twelve  men  are  seen  who  had  for- 
saken their  former  occupations,  and  had  now 
attached  themselves  permanently  to  his  person, 
ministering  to  his  comfort,  imbibing  his  instruc- 
tions, forming  an  innermost  circle  of  disciple- 
ship,  within  which  Jesus  was  often  seen  to 
retire,  and  to  which  the  mysteries  of  the  king- 
dom were  revealed  as  there  was  abihty  to  re- 
ceive them. 

But  now  a  still  more  singular  spectacle  is 
presented.  Jesus  takes  the  twelve,  and  divid- 
ing them  into  pairs,  sends  them  away  from  him 
two  and  two  ;  delivering  to  them,  as  he  sends 
them  forth,  the  address  contained  in  the  tenth 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew.  A  few 
minute  instructions  were  first  given  as  to  the 
special  missionary  tour  on  which  they  were 
despatched.  It  was  to  be  confined  strictly  to 
Galilee — to  the  narrow  district  that  they  had 
already  frequently  traversed  in  their  Master's 
company.  But  he  personally  was  not  to  be 
the  burden  of  their  message.     They  were  not 


The  Mission  of  the  T\yelye.  195 

to  announce  his  advent  as  the  Messiah.  He 
had  not  done  so  himself,  and  their  preaching 
was  not  to  go  bej-ond  his  own.  The}^  were 
simply  to  proclaim  the  advent  of  the  kingdom, 
leaving  the  works  and  words  of  Jesus  to  point 
out  the  place  in  that  kingdom  which  he  occu- 
pied. The  power  of  working  miracles  they 
were  for  the  time  to  enjoy,  but  they  were  not 
to  use  it,  as  they  might  easily  have  done,  for 
any  selfistt  or  mercenary  purpose.  As  freely 
as  they  got,  they  were  to  give.  They  were 
to  be  absent  but  a  few  days.  They  were  going, 
not  among  strangers  or  enemies,  but  among 
friends  and  brethren.  The  more  easily  and 
expeditiously  they  got  through  their  work  the 
better.  Unprovided  and  unencumbered,  they 
were  to  cast  themselves  at  once  upon  the  hos- 
pitality of  those  they  visited.  "Nor  was  there 
in  this,"  says  Dr.  Thomson,  "  any  departure 
from  the  simple  manners  of  the  country.  At 
this  day  the  farmer  sets  out  on  excursions 
quite  as  extensive  without  a  para  in  his  purse, 
and  the  modern  Moslem  prophet  of  Tarshiha 
thus  sends  forth  his  apostles  over  this  identical 
region.  Neither  do  they  encumber  themselves 
with  two  coats.  They  are  accustomed  to  sleep 
in  the   garments   they  wear  during  the  day  ; 


196  The  Mission  of  the  Twelm3. 

and  ill  this  climate  such  plain  people  experi- 
ence therefrom  no  inconvenience.  They  wear 
coarse  shoes,  answering  to  the  sandal  of  the 
ancients,  but  never  carry  two  pairs  ;  and, 
although  the  staff  is  the  invariable  companion 
of  all  wayftirers,  they  are  content  with  o/ie."* 
The  directions  givqn  to  the  Apostles  were 
proper  to  a  short  and  hasty  journey,  such  as 
the  one  now  before  them.  On  entering  any 
town  or  village,  their  first  inquiry  *was  to  be 
for  the  susceptible,  the  well-disposed,  about 
whom,  after  the  excitement  consequent  upon 
Christ's  former  visits,  some  information  might 
easily  be  obtained.  They  were  to  salute  the 
house  in  which  such  resided,  to  enter  it,  and, 
if  well  received,  were  to  remain  in  it,  not 
going  from  house  to  house,  wasting  their 
time  in  multiplied  or  prolonged  formalities  and 
salutations  by  the  way.  Wherever  rejected, 
they  were  to  shake  off  the  dust  of  their  feet 
against  that  house  or  city  ;  and  to  create  a 
profound  impression  of  the  importance  of  the 
errand  on  which  they  were  despatched,  Jesus 
closes  the  first  part  of  his  address  to  them  by 

*  The  Land  and  the  Book,  p.  3-16.  In  St.  Matthew 's  GoBpel  it 
is  said  they  were  not  to  take  staves  ;  in  Mark,  that  they  were  to 
take  one,  i.  e. ,  one  only. 


The  Mission  of  the  Twelve.  197 

saying,  "  Yerily  I  say  unto  you,  It  shall  be 
more  tolerable  for  the  land  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  in  the  day  of  judgment  than  for 
that  city." 

Hitherto,  all  that  he  had  said  had  direct 
reference  to  the  short  and  rapid  journey  that 
lay  immediately  before  them.  But  limited  as 
it  was,  the  task  now  committed  to  them  carried 
in  it  the  germ,  the  type,  of  that  larger  apos- 
tolic work  for  which,  by  the  gift  of  the  Spirit, 
they  were  to  be  qualified,  and  in  which,  for  so 
many  years  after  their  Master's  death,  they 
were  to  be  engaged.  And  so,  after  speaking 
of  the  one,  Jesus  passes  on  to  the  other,  the 
nearer  and  narrower  mission  sinking  out  of 
sight  as  his  eye  rests  on  the  further  and 
broader  mission  that  lay  before  them.  In  the 
one,  the  nearer,  there  was  to  be  no  opposition 
or  persecution  ;  in  the  other,  a  fiery  trial  was 
in  store  for  the  faithful.  The  one,  the  nearer, 
was  to  be  confined  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel  ;  in  the  other,  they  were  to  come 
into  collision  with  the  kings  and  governors  of 
the  Gentiles.  It  is  of  this  second  period — of 
the  persecution  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  gifts 
of  the  qualifying  Spirit  on  the  other,  by  which 
it  should  be  distinguished — that  Jesus  speaks 


193  The  Mission  of  the  Twelve. 

in  tlie  })assage  embraced  in  the  verses  from  the 
IGth  to  the  23d.  The  second  division  of  the 
address  closes,  as  the  first  does,  by  a  "  Verily  I 
say  unto  you."  The  fact  thus  solemnly  af- 
firmed pointing,  in  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem, to  the  close  of  that  period  over  which 
Christ's  prophetic  eye  was  now  ranging.  Yer- 
ily  I  say  unto  you.  Ye  shall  not  have  gone 
over  the  cities  of  Israel,  till  the  Sou  of  Man  be 
come." 

But  now  the  whole  earthly  mission  of  the 
twelve  presents  itself  to  the  Saviour's  eye  but 
as  the  preface  and  prelude  to  that  continuous 
abiding  work  of  witnessing  for  him  upon  this 
earth  to  wdiich  each  separate  disciple  of  the 
cross  is  called.  Dropping,  therefore,  all  direc- 
tions and  allusions  referring  exclusively  to  the 
Apostles  and  to  apostolic  times,  Jesus,  in  the 
closing  and  larger  portion  of  the  address,  from 
the  24th  to  the  42d  verse,  speaks  generally  of 
all  true  discipleship  to  himself  upon  this  earth : 
foretelling  its  fortunes,  describing  its  character, 
its  duties,  its  encouragements,  and  its  rewards. 

Jesus  would  hold  out  no  false  hopes — would 
have  no  one  become  his  upon  any  false  expec- 
tations Misconception,  misrepresentation,  il"l- 
treatment  of  one  kind  or  other,  his  true  and 


The  Mission  of  the  Twelve.  199 

faithful  followers  must  be  prepared  to  meet — 
to  meet  without  surprise,  without  complaint, 
without  resentment.  The  disciple  need  not 
hope  to  be  above  his  Master,  the  servant  above 
his  Lord.  **  If  they  have  called  the  master  of 
the  house  Beelzebub,  how  much  more  them  of 
his  household?"  But  why  should  the  covert 
slander,  the  calumny  whispered  in  secret,  be 
dreaded,  when  the  day  was  coming  when  all 
that  is  covered  shall  be  revealed,  all  that  is  hid 
shall  be  made  known?  With  his  disciples 
there  should  be  no  concealment  of  any  kind. 
He  came  to  found  no  secret  society,  linked 
by  hidden  bonds,  depository  of  inner  mysteries. 
True,  there  were  things  that  he  addressed 
alone  to  the  Apostles'  ear  in  private,  but  the 
secrecy  and  reserve  so  practised  by  him  was 
meant  to  be  temporary,  to  be  transient. 
*'  What  I  tell  you  thus  in  darkness,  that  speak 
ye  in  the  light :  and  what  ye  hear  in  the  ear, 
that  preach  ye  upon  the  housetops."  The  do- 
ing so  may  imperil  life,  the  life  of  the  body  : 
but  what  of  that  ?  "  Fear  not  them  which  kill 
the  body,  but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul : 
but  rather  fear  him  which  is  able  to  destroy 
both  soul  and  body  in  hell."  But  even  the  life 
of  the  body  shall  be  watched  over,  not  suffered 


200  The  Mission  of  the  Twelve. 

needlessly  to  perish.  Not  a  single  sparrow, 
though  worth  but  half  a  farthing,  falls  to  the 
ground  without  God's  knowledge,  not  a  hair 
of  your  head  but  is  numbered  by  him.  "  Fear 
ye  not,  therefore;  ye  are  of  more  value  than 
many  sparrows."  The  head  whose  very  hairs 
are  numbered  by  him,  your  Father  will  not 
see  lightly  or  uselessly  cut  off.  Leave  your 
fate  then  in  his  hands,  and  whatever  that  may 
be,  be  open,  be  honest,  be  full,  be  fearless  in 
the  testimony  ye  bear,  for  "  Whosoever  shall 
confess  me  before  men,  him  I  will  confess  be- 
fore my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  But  who- 
soever shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I 
deny  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
Times  of  outward  persecution  may  not  last, 
but  think  not  that  on  this  earth  there  shall 
ever  be  perfect  peace.  "  I  came  not  to  send 
peace,  but  a  sword,"  a  sword  which,  though 
it  drop  out  of  the  open  hand  of  the  persecutor, 
shall  not  want  other  hands  to  take  it  up  and 
wield  it  differently.  "  I  am  come  to  set  a  man 
at  variance  against  his  father,  and  the  daugh- 
ter agahist  her  mother,  and  the  daughter-in- 
law  against  her  mother-in-law,  and  a  man's 
foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household." 
And  to  no  severer  trial  shall  my  followers  be 


The  Mission  of  the  T\\-elve.  201 

Bubject,  than  when  it  is  not  force  but  affection, 
the  affection  of  the  nearest  and  dearest  on 
earth,  that  would  draw  them  away  from  me, 
or  tempt  them  to  be  unfaithful  to  my  cause. 

But  above  all  other  claims  is  the  one  I  make 
on  the  love  of  all  who  choose  me  as  their  Sa- 
viour and  their  Lord.  I  must  be  first  in  their 
affections :  the  throne  of  their  heart  must  be 
mine  ;  no  rival  permitted  to  sit  by  my  side.  It 
is  not  that  I  am  selfishly  exactive  of  affection  ; 
it  is  not  that  I  am  jealous  of  other  love  :  it  is 
not  that  I  wish  or  ask  that  you  should  love 
others  less  in  order  to  love  me  more  :  but  it  is, 
that  what  I  am  to  you,  what  I  have  done  for 
you,  what  from  this  time  forth  and  foreverraore 
I  am  prepared  to  be  to  and  to  do  for  you,  gives 
me  such  a  priority  and  precedence  in  the  claim 
I  make,  "  that  he  that  loveth  father  and  mother 
more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me,  and  he  that 
loveth  son  or  daughter  more  than  me  is  not 
worthy  of  me."  A  bitter  thing  it  may  be  to 
crucify  some  inordinate  earthly  desire  or  affec- 
tion in  order  to  give  me,  or  to  keep  me  in,  that 
place  of  supremacy  which  is  the  only  one  I  pos- 
sibly or  consistently  can  occupy.  But  he  that 
taketh  not  up  the  cross  for  me,  even  as  I  have 
taken  up  the  cross  for  him  ;  he  that  will  not 


202  The  Mission  of  the  Twelve. 

deny  himself,  and  in  the  exercise  of  that  self- 
denial  take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me  ; 
"  he  is  not  worthy  of  me,  he  cannot  be  my  dis- 
ciple." For  this  is  one  of  the  fixed  unalterable 
conditions  of  that  spiritual  economy  under  which 
you  and  all  men  live,  that  he  who  maketh  the 
pursuit's  and  the  pleasures  of  the  present  scene 
of  things  the  aim  of  his  being  ;  he  who  by  any 
manner  or  form  of  self- gratification  seeks  to 
gain  his  life  shall  lose  it,  shall  fail  at  the  last 
even  in  the  very  thing  upon  which  he  has  set 
his  heart.  Whereas  he  who  for  my  sake  shall 
give  himself  to  the  mortifying  of  every  evil  af- 
fection of  his  nature,  to  the  crucifying  of  the 
flesh  with  the  affections  and  lusts  thereof,  he 
shall  find  the  life  he  seems  to  lose  ; — out  of  the 
death  of  the  lower  shall  spring  the  higher,  the 
eternal  life  of  the  spirit.  And  let  all  of  every 
degree^  whether  they  be  Apostles  or  Prophets, 
or  simple  disciples,  or  the  least  of  these  my  lit- 
tle ones,  be  animated,  be  elevated  throughout 
that  strife  with  self  and  sin,  the  world  and  the 
devil,  to  which  in  Christ  they  are  called,  by  re- 
membering what  a  dignified  position  they  occu- 
py, whose  representatives  they  are.  "  He  that 
receiveth  you  receiveth  me  :  he  that  receiveth 
me  receiveth  him  that  sent  me."    And  if  it  be 


The  Mission  of  the  Twelve.  20S 

in  the  name  or  the  character  of  a  prophet  that 
any  one  receives  you,  he,  the  receiver,  shall 
have  a  prophet's  reward  ;  or  if  in  the  name  sim^ 
ply  of  a  righteous  man  that  any  one  receive 
you,  he,  the  receiver,  shall  have  a  righteous 
man's  reward  ;  nay,  more,  if  it  be  to  any  of  the 
least  of  my  little  ones  that  a  cup  only  of  cold 
water  be  given  in  the  nane  of  a  disciple,  he,  the 
giver,  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his  reward.  For  so 
it  is,  and  ever  shall  be,  not  simply  by  great  men 
going  out  upon  great  embassies  and  speaking 
words  of  power  to  gathered  multitudes,  or  by 
great  assemblies  propounding  or  enforcing  great 
and  solemn  truths,  that  the  kingdom  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  advanced,  but  by  all,  the  high  and  low, 
and  rich  and  poor,  and  weak  and  strong,  who 
bear  his  name,  looking  upon  themselves  as  his 
missionaries  here  on  earth,  sent  by  him  even  as 
he  was  sent  by  his  Father  ;  sent,  that  they  may 
be  to  one  another  what  he  has  been  to  them, 
seeking  each  other's  good,  willing  to  communi- 
cate, giving  and  in  giving  receiving,  receiving 
and  in  receiving  imparting,  each  doing  a  httle 
in  one  way  or  other  to  commend  to  others  that 
Saviour  in  whom  is  all  his  trust,  these  littles 
making  up  that  vast  and  ever  multiplying  agen- 
cy  by   which    the  empire   of   the   Redeemer 


204:  The  Mission  of  the  Twelve, 

over   human    spirits  is    being  continually   en 
large  d. 

Can  any  one  read  over  and  even  partially 
enter  into  the  meaning  of  those  words  which 
Jesus  spake  to  his  Apostles  when  sending  them 
for  the  first  time  from  his  side — -a  season  when 
there  was  so  Uttle  material  out  of  which  any 
rational  conjecture  could  be  formed  as  to  his 
future  or  theirs,  or  the  future  of  any  school  or 
sect,  or  institution  that  He  and  they  might 
found, — and  not  be  convinced  that  open  as  day 
lay  all  that  future  to  him  who  here,  as  else- 
where in  so  many  of  his  most  important  dis- 
courses, sets  forth  in  a  series  of  perspectives — 
mixing  with  and  melting  into  each  other — the 
whole  history  of  his  Church  in  all  its  trials  and 
conflicts  from  the  beginning  even  to  the  end  ? 
But  a  greater  than  a  Prophet  is  here — one 
who  speaks  of  men  being  hated,  persecuted, 
scourged,  and  put  to  death  for  his  name's  sake, 
as  if  there  were  nothing  in  any  wise  unreason- 
able or  unnatural  in  it ;  one  who  would  have 
all  men  come  to  him,  and  who  asks  of  all  who 
come,  love,  obedience,  and  sacrifice,  such  as 
but  one  Being  has  a  right  to  ask,  ev^n  he  who 
has  redeemed  us  to  God  by  his  blood,  whose 
right  over  all  we  are  and  have  and  can  do 


The  Mission  of  the  Twelve.  205 

is  supreme,  unchallengeable,  unchangeable  , 
whose,  by  every  tie,  we  are,  and  whom,  by  the 
mightiest  of  obligations,  we  are  bound  to  love 
and  serve. 

The  sight  must  have  been  a  very  extraor- 
dinary one,  of  the  Apostles  setting  off  two  by 
two  from  their  Master's  side,  passing  with  such 
eagerness  and  haste  through  the  towns  and 
villages,  preaching  and  working  miracles.  To 
hear  one  man  preach  as  Jesus  did,  to  see  one 
man  confirm  his  word  by  doing  such  wonder- 
ful works,  filled  the  whole  community  with 
wonder.  To  what  a  higher  pitch  must  that 
wonder  have  been  raised  when  they  saw  others 
commissioned  by  him,  endowed  by  him.  not 
only  preaching  as  he  did,  but  healing,  too,  all 
manner  of  disease !  True,  the  circle  was  a 
small  one  to  whom  such  special  powers  were 
delegated  ;  but  half  a  year  or  so  afterwards, 
as  if  to  teach  that  it  was  not  to  the  twelve 
alone — to  those  holding  the  high  office  of  the 
apostolate — that  Jesus  was  prepared  to  grant 
such  a  commission,  he  sent  out  a  band  of  sev- 
enty men,  embracing,  we  are  inclined  to  be- 
lieve, almost  the  entire  body  of  his  professed 
disciples  in  the  north  who  were  of  the  age  and 
had  the  strength  to  execute  such  a  task  j  ad- 


206  The  Mission  of  the  Iwelye 

dressing  them  in  almost  the  same  terms,  impos- 
ing on  them  the  same  duties,  and  clothing 
them  with  the  same  prerogatives,  clearly  mani- 
festing by  his  employment  of  so  large  a  num- 
ber oi'  his  ordinary  disciples  that  it  was  not  his 
purpose  that  the  dissemination  of  the  know- 
ledge of  his  name  should  be  confined  to  any  one 
small  and  peculiarly  endowed  body  of  men. 

It  appears  from  the  statement  of  St.  Mat- 
thew that  when  Jesus  had  made  an  end  of 
commanding  his  twelve  disciples,  he  departed 
thence  to  teach  and  to  preach  in  their  cities. 
continuing  thus  his  own  personal  labors  in  the 
absence  of  the  twelve.  How  long  they  remained 
apart,  in  the  absence  of  all  definite  notes  of  time, 
can  only  be  a  matter  of  conjecture.  A  few  days 
would  carry  the  apostles  over  all  the  ground 
they  had  to  traverse,  and  they  would  not  loiter 
by  the  way.  Ere  very  long  they  were  all 
united  once  more  at  Capernaum.  Tidings  met 
them  there  of  a  very  sad  event  which  had  just 
occurred,  we  know  not  exactly  where,  but  if 
Josephus  is  to  be  trusted,  it  was  in  the  re- 
motest region  of  that  district  over  which  Herod 
Antipas  ruled.  It  is  very  singular  that  though 
Herod  governed  Galilee,  and  built  and  gener- 
ally resided  at  Tiberias,  a  town  upon  the  lake- 


The  Mission  or  the  Twelve.  207 

side  a  few  miles  south  of  the  plain  of  Gennesa* 
ret,  he  had  never  met  with  Jesus  ;  had  done 
nothing  to  interrupt  his  labors,  though  these 
were  making  so  great  a  sensation  all  over  the 
country  ;  had  never,  apparently,  'till  about  this 
time  even  heard  of  him  or  of  his  works. 

It  has  not  unreasonably  been  conjectured 
that  soon  after  throwing  John  the  Baptist  into 
prison  he  had  been  absent  on  one  of  his  jour- 
neys to  Rome  during  those  very  months  in  which 
our  Lord's  Galilean  ministry  was  most  openly 
and  actively  conducted.  Even,  however,  had 
this  not  been  the  case — as  we  never  read  of 
Jesus  visiting  Tiberias — we  can  readily  enough 
imagine  that  Herod  might  have  been  hving 
there  all  the  time,  too  much  engaged  with  other 
things  to  heed  much  what,  if  at  all  spoken  of 
in  his  presence,  would  be  spoken  of  contemptu- 
ously as  a  new  Jewish  religious  ferment  that 
was  spreading  among  the  people.  The  public 
tranquillity  was  not  threatened  ;  and,  that  pre- 
served, they  might  have  as  many  such  religious 
excitements  among  them  as  they  liked.  Though 
fully  cognizant  of  the  nature  and  progress  of  the 
nature  and  progress  of  the  Baptist's  ministry, 
he  had  done  nothing  to  stop  it.  It  was  not  on 
any  public  or  political  grounds,  but  purely  and 


208  Ministry  op 

solely  on  a  personal  one,  that  he  had  cast  John 
into  prison.  At  first  he  had  listened  to  him 
gladly,  and  done  many  things  at  his  bidding, 
but  the  Baptist  had  been  bold  enough  to  tell 
him  that  it  was  not  lawful  for  him  to  have  his 
brother's  wife,  and  brave  enough  at  all  hazards 
to  keep  by  what  he  said.  He  would  neither 
modify  nor  retract.  Herod's  anger  was  kindled 
against  him,  and  was  well  nursed  and  kept 
warm  by  Herodias.  She  would  have  made 
short  work  with  the  impudent  intermeddler. 
But  Herod  feared  the  people,  and  so  contented 
himself  with  casthig  him  into  that  prison  in 
which  he  lay  so  many  long  and  weary  months. 
While  lying  there  alone  and  inactive,  he  had 
sent,  as  we  have  seen,  two  of  his  disciples  to 
Jesus  to  ask  him,  "  Art  thou  he  that  should 
come,  or  look  we  for  another  ?"'  It  was  after 
8-11  but  an  indirect  and  ambiguous  reply  that 
they  had  brought  back — enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  to  meet  any  transient  doubt  as  to 
Christ's  character  and  office  which  in  any  quar- 
ter might  have  arisen,  but  carrying  with  it  no 
reference  to  the  Baptist's  personal  estate — em- 
bodying no  message  of  sympathy — holding  out 
no  prospect  of  relief.  All  that  was  left  to  John 
was  to  cling  to  the  hope  that  his  long  impris- 


John  the  Baptist.  209 

onment  must  be  near  its  end.  Herod  might 
relent,  or  Jesus  might  interpose — somehow  or 
other  the  dehverance  would  come.  And  it  did 
come  at  last,  but  not  as  John  had  looked  for  it. 
It  came  in  the  form  of  that  grim  executioner, 
who,  breaking  in  upon  his  solitude,  and  flash- 
iiTg  before  his  eyes  the  instrument  of  death, 
bade  him  bow  his  head  at  once  to  the  fatal 
stroke.  Short  warning  this  :  was  no  explana- 
tion to  be  given  ?  no  interview  with  Herod  al- 
lowed ?  not  a  day  nor  an  hour  for  preparation 
given  ?  No.  The  king's  order  was  for  instant 
execution.  The  damsel  was  waiting  for  the 
head,  and  the  mother  waiting  for  the  damsel. 
How  did  the  Baptist  bear  himself  at  that  trying 
moment  ?  There  were  no  crowds  to  witness 
this  martyr's  death  ;  not  one  there  to  tell  us 
afterwards  how  he  looked,  or  what  he  said. 
Alone,  he  had  to  gird  his  spirit  up  to  meet  his 
doom.  A  moment  or  two,  spent  we  know  not 
how,  and  the  death-blow  fell. 

It  is  said  that  when  death  comes  suddenly 
upon  a  man, — when,  this  moment  in  full  pos- 
session of  his  faculties,  he  knows  that  next  mo- 
ment is  to  be  his  last — within  that  moment 
there  flashes  often  upon  the  memory  the  whole 
scenery  of  a  bygone  life.     If  such  a  vision  of 


210  MiNISTEY  OF 

the  past  rose  up  before  the  Baptist's  eye,  wL^t 
a  strange  mj^sterious  thing  might  that  Hfe  of 
his  on  earth  have  seemed, — how  Uke  a  failure, 
how  seemingly  abortive  !  Thirty  long  years  of 
preparation ;  then  a  brief  and  wonderful  suc- 
cess, brimful  of  promise  ;  that  success  suddenly 
arrested  ;  all  means  and  opportunities  of  active 
service  plucked  out  of  his  hand.  Then  the  idle 
months  in  prison,  and  then  the  felon's  death ! 
Mysterious,  inexplicable  as  such  a  life  might 
look  to  the  eye  of  sense,  how  looked  it  to  the 
eye  of  God  ?  Many  flattering  things  have  been 
said  of  men  when  they  were  living  ;  many  false 
and  fulsome  epitaphs  have  been  graven  on  their 
tombs  ;  but  the  lips  that  never  flattered  have 
said  of  John,  that  of  those  that  have  been  born 
of  women  there  hath  not  arisen  a  greater  ;  his 
greatness  mainly  due  to  his  peculiar  connexion 
with  Christ,  but  not  unsupported  by  his  per- 
sonal character,  for  he  is  one  of  the  few  promi- 
nent figures  in  the  sacred  page  upon  which  not 
a  single  r.tain  is  seen  to  rest.  And  though 
they  buried  him  in  some  obscure  grave  to 
which  none  went  on  pilgrimage,  yet  for  that 
tomb  the  pen  that  never  traced  a  line  of  false- 
hood has  written  the  brief  but  pregnant  epi 
taph:  "John  fulfilled  his  course."     Terminat- 


John  the  Baptist.  211 

ing  so  abruptly  at  such  an  early  stage,  with 
large  capacity  for  work,  and  plenty  of  work  to 
do,  shall  we  not  say  of  this  man  that  his  life 
was  unseasonably  and  prematurely  cut  off? 
No  ;  his  earthly  task  was  done  :  he  had  a  cer- 
tain work  assigned  him  here,  and  it  was  finished. 
N'or  could  a  higher  eulogium  have  been  pro- 
nounced over  his  grave  than  this,  that  he  had 
fulfilled  the  course  assigned  to  him  by  Provi- 
dence. Let  the  testimony  thus  borne  to  him 
convince  us  that  there  is  a  special  and  narrow 
sphere  which  God  has  marked  out  for  each  of 
us  on  earth.  To  be  wise  to  know  what  that 
sphere  is,  to  accept  it  and  keep  to  it,  and 
be  content  with  it  —  diligently,  perse veringly, 
thankfully,  submissively  to  do  its  work  and 
bear  its  burdens,  is  one  of  our  first  duties — a 
duty  which  in  its  discharge  will  minister  one  of 
our  simplest  and  purest  joys. 

The  bloody  head  was  grasped  by  the  execu- 
tioner and  carried  into  the  king's  presence,  and 
given  to  the  damsel ;  and  she  carried  it  to  her 
mother.  The  sense  of  sated  vengeance  may  for 
the  moment  have  filled  the  heart  of  Herodias 
with  a  grim  and  devilish  joy  ;  but  those  pale 
lips — those  fixed  and  glazed  eyes — that  livid 
countenance  upon  whose  rigid  features  the  shad- 
ow of  its  living  sternness  is  still  resting,  she  can- 


212         MiNisTBY  OF  John  the  Baptist. 

not  look  long  at  them  ;  she  waves  the  ghastly 
object  from  her  sight,  to  be  borne  away,  and 
laid  we  know  not  where. 

The  headless  body  had  been  left  upon  the 
prison  floor.  So  soon  as  they  hear  of  what  has 
happened,  some  of  John's  disciples  come  and 
lift  it  up  and  bear  it  out  sadly  to  burial ;  and 
that  last  office  done,  in  their  desolation  and 
helplessness  they  followed  the  instinct  of  that 
new  faith  which  their  Master's  teaching  had  in- 
spired—  they  went  and  told  Jesus.  They  did 
what  in  all  our  sorrows  we  should  do  :  they 
went  and  told  him  who  can  most  fully  sympa- 
thize, and  who  alone  can  thoroughly  and  abid- 
ingly comfort  and  sustain. 


X. 


THE   FEEDING   OF   THE    FIVE    THOUSAND,    AND 
THE    WALKING   UPON  THE  WATER.* 

HEROD  first  heard  of  Jesus  immediately 
after  the  Baptist's  death.  While  some 
said  that  this  Jesus  now  so  much  spoken  of 
was  Elias,  or  one  of  the  Prophets,  there  were 
others  about  the  Tetrarch  who  suggested  that 
he  was  John  risen  from  the  dead.  Herod  had 
little  real  faith,  but  that  did  not  prevent  his 
lying  open  enough  to  superstitious  fancies. 
He  was  ill  at  ease  about  what  he  had  done  on 
his  birthday  feast — haunted  by  fears  that  he 
could  not  shake  off.  The  suggestion  about 
Jesus  fell  in  with  these  fears,  and  helped  in 
a  way  to  soothe  them.  And  so,  after  some 
perplexity  and  doubt,  at  last  he  adopted  it,  and 
proclaimed  it  to  be  his  ow^n  conviction,  saying 

*  Matt.  xiv.  13-33  ;  Mark  vi.  30-52  ;  Luke  ix.  10-17  ;  John  vi 
1-21. 


214  The  Feeding  op 

to  his  servants,  as  if  with  a  somewhat  hght- 
ened  conscience,  "  This  is  Jolni,  whom  I  be- 
headed :  he  is  risen  from  the  dead  :  and,  there- 
fore, mighty  works  do  show  forth  themselves 
in  him" — John  had  done  no  mighty  works  so 
long  as  Herod  knew  him,  but  now,  in  this 
new  estate,"  he  had  risen  to  a  higher  level,  to 
which  he,  Herod,  had  helped  to  elevate  him — • 
he  would  like  to  see  him  in  the  new  garb. 

The  disciples  of  John,  who  came  and  told 
Jesus  of  their  master's  death,  had  to  tell  him 
also  of  the  strange  credulity  and  curiosity  of 
Herod.  We  are  left  to  imagine  the  impression 
their  report  created.  It  came  at  the  very  time 
when  the  twelve  had  returned  from  their  short 
and  separate  excursions,  and  when,  as  the  fruit 
of  the  divided  and  multiplied  agency  that  had 
been  exerted,  so  many  were  coming  and  going 
out  and  in  among  the  re-assembled  band,  that 
"they  had  no  leisure,"  we  are  told,  "so  much 
as  to  eat."*  For  himself  and  for  them,  Jesus 
desired  now  a  little  quiet  and  seclusion.  For 
himself — that  he  might  ponder  over  a  death 
prophetic  of  his  own,  the  occurrence  of  which 
made,  as  we  shall  see,  an  epoch  in  his  ministrj^ 

*  Mark  vi.  21. 


The  Ywe  Thousand.  215 

For  them — that  they  might  have  some  respite 
from  accumulated  fatigue  and  toil.     His   own 
purpose  fixed,  he  invited   them  to  join  him  in 
its  execution,  saying  to  them,  "  Come  ye  your- 
selves into  a  desert  place  and  rest  a    while.'' 
Such  a  desert  place  as  would  afford  the  seclu- 
sion that  they  sought,  they  had  not  to  go  far 
to  find.     Over  against  Capernaum,  across  the 
lake,  in  the  district  running  up  northward  to 
Bethsaida,  are  plenty  of  lonely  enough  places 
to   choose   among.     They   take  boat   to    row 
across.     The  wind  blows  fresh  trom  the  north- 
west ;  for  shelter,  they  hug  the  shore.     Their 
departure  had  been  watched  by  the  crowd,  and 
now,  when  they  see  how  close  to  the  land  they 
keep,  and  how  slow  the  progress  is  they  make, 
a  great  multitude  out  of  all  the  cities — embrac- 
ing, in  all  likehhood,  many  of  those  companies 
which  had  gathered  to  go  up  to  the  Passover 
— run   on  foot  along  the  shore.     A  less  than 
two  hours'  walk  carries  them  to  Bethsaida,  at 
the   northern  extremity    of   the   lake.     There 
they   cross   the    Jordan,  and  enter  upon  that 
large  and  uninhabited  plain  that  slopes  down 
to  the  lake,  on   its  northeastern   shores.     An- 
other hour  or  so  carries  them  to  the  spot  at 
which    Christ   and  his    apostles    land,    where 


216  The  Feeding  op 

many,  having  outstripped  the  boat,  are  ready 
to  receive  them,  and  where  more  and  more 
still  come,  bearing  their  sick  along  with  them. 
It  was  somewhat  of  a  trial  to  have  the  purpose 
of  the  voyage  apparently  thus  baffled,  the  se- 
clusion sought  after  thus  violated  ;  but  if  felt 
at  all,  it  sat  light  upon  a  heart  which,  turning 
away  from  the  thought  of  self,  was  filled  with 
compassion  for  those  who  were  "  as  sheep  not 
having  a  shepherd."  Retiring  to  a  neighbor- 
ing mountain,  Jesus  sits  down  and  teaches,  and 
heals  ;  and  so  the  hours  of  the  afternoon  pass 

by- 

But  now  another  kind  of  solicitude  seizes  on 
the  disciples.  They  may  not  have  been  as 
patient  of  the  defeat  of  their  Master's  purpose 
as  he  was  himself.  They  may  have  grudged 
to  see  the  hours  that  he  had  destined  to  repose 
broken  in  upon  and  so  fully  occupied.  True, 
they  had  little  to  do  themselves  but  listen,  and 
wait,  and  watch.  The  crowd  grew,  however  ; 
stream  followed  stream,  and  poured  itself  out 
upon  the  mountain  side.  The  day  declined  ; 
the  evening  shadows  lengthened  ;  yet,  as  if 
never  satisfied,  that  vast  company  still  clung  to 
Jesus,  and  made  no  movement  to  depart.  The 
disciples  grew  anxious.     They  came  at  last  to 


The  Five  Thousand.  217 

Jesus,  and  said,  "This  is  a  desert  place,  and 
the  time  is  now  past :  send  the  multitude  away, 
that  they  may  go  into  the  country  round  about, 
and   into    the    villages,    and   lodge,    and    buy 
bread  for  themselves,  for  they  have  nothing  to 
eat."     "  They  need  not   depart,"  said   Jesus  ; 
"  give  you  to  them  to  eat.  "     Turning  to  Philip, 
a  native  of  Bethsaida,  one  well  acquainted  with 
the  adjoining  district,  Jesus  saith  in  an  inquiring 
tone,  "  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread,  that  these 
may  eat?"     Philip  runs  his  eye  over  the  great 
assemblage,  and  making  a  rough  estimate  of 
what  would  be  required,  he  answered,  "  Two 
hundred   pennyworth   of  bread  would  not  be 
sufficient  for  them,  that  every  one  might  'get  a 
little  ;'  shall  we  go  and  buy  as  much?"     Jesus 
asked  how  much  food  they  had  among  them- 
selves, without  needing  to  go  and  make  any 
further  purchase.     Andrew,  another  native  of 
Bethsaida,  who  had  been  scrutinizing  the  crowd, 
discovering     some     old     acquaintances,    said, 
"  There  is  a  lad  here,  who  has  five  barley  loaves 
and  two  small  fishes  ;  but  what  are  they  among 
so  many  ?"     "  Bring  them  to  me,"  said  Jesus. 
They   brought   them.     "Make    the   men,"  he 
said  ,  "sit  down  by  fifties  in  a  company  "—an 
order  indicative  of  our  Lord's  design  that  there 


21S  The  I'eedinq  of 

might  be  no  confusion,  and  that  the  attention 
of  all  might  be  directed  to  what  he  was  about 
to  do.  The  season  was  favorable — it  was  the 
full  spring-tide  of  the  year  ;  the  place  was  con- 
venient— much  green  grass  covering  the  broad 
and  gentle  slope  that  stretched  away  from  the 
base  of  the  mountain.  The  marshalling  of  five 
thousand  men,  besides  women  and  children, 
into  such  an  orderly  array,  must  have  taken 
some  time.  The  people,  however,  quietly  con- 
sented to  be  so  arranged,  and  company  after 
company  sat  down,  till  the  whole  were  seated 
in  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  who  all  the  while 
has  stood  in  silence  watching  the  operation, 
with  that  scanty  stock  of  provisions  in  his  hand. 
All  eyes  are  now  upon  him.  He  begins  to 
speak  ;  he  prays ;  he  blesses  the  five  loaves 
and  the  two  fishes,  breaks  them,  divides  them 
among  the  twelve,  and  directs  them  to  go  and 
distribute  them  among  the  others. 

And  now,  among  those  thousands — sitting 
there  and  ranged  so  that  all  can  see  what  is 
going  on— the  mystery  of  their  feeding  begins 
to  show  itself.  There  were  one  hundred  com- 
panies of  fifty,  besides  the  women  and  children. 
In  each  Apostle's  hand,  as  he  takes  his  portion 
from  the  hand  of  Jesus,  there  is  not  more  than 


The  Five  Thousam).  219 

would  meet  one  man's  need.  Yet,  as  the  dis- 
tribution by  the  tvvelve  begins,  there  is  enough 
to  give  what  looks  like  a  sufficient  portion  to 
each  of  the  hundred  men  who  sits  at  the  head 
of  his  company.  He  gets  it,  and  little  enough 
as  it  seems  for  himself,  he  is  told  to  divide  it, 
and  give  the  half  of  it  to  his  neighbor,  to  be 
dealt  with  in  hke  fashion.  Each  man  in  the 
ranks,  as  he  begins  to  break,  finds  that  the  half 
that  he  got  at  first  grows  into  a  whole  in  the 
very  act  of  dividing  and  bestowing  ;  the  small 
initial  supply  grows  and  multiplies  in  the  trans- 
mission from  hand  to  hand.  All  eat — all  are 
satisfied.  **  Gather  up,"  said  Jesus,  as  he  saw 
some  unused  food  lying  scattered  upon  the 
ground,  *'  the  fragments  that  remain,  that  noth- 
ing be  lost."  They  do  ;  and  whde  one  basket 
could  hold  the  five  loaves  and  the  two  fishes,  it 
DOW  takes  twelve  to  hold'  these  fragments. 

Of  the  nature  and  purpose  of  this  great  mir- 
acle, we  shall  have  something  to  say  hereafter. 
Meanwhile,  let  us  notice  it«  immediate  effect. 
One  of  its  singularities,  as  compared  with  other 
miracles  of  our  Lord,  was  this  :  that  such  a  vast 
multitude  were  all  at  once  not  only  spectators 
of  it,  but  participators  of  its  benefits.  Seven 
or  eight  thousand   hungry  men,  women,  and 


220  The  Feeding  op 

children  sit  down  upon  a  hillside,  and  there  be- 
fore their  eyes,  for  an  hour  or  two — full  leisure 
given  them  to  contemplate  and  reflect — the 
spectacle  goes  on,  of  a  few  loaves  and  fishes, 
under  Christ's  blessing,  and  by  some  mysteri- 
ous acting  of  his  great  power,  expanding  in 
their  hands  till  they  are  all  more  than  satisfied. 
Each  sees  the  wonder,  and  shares  in  the  result. 
It  is  not  like  a  miracle,  however  great,  wrought 
instai  tly  upou  a  single  man.  Such  a  miracle 
the  same  number  of  men,  women,  and  children 
might  see,  indeed,  but  could  not  all  see  as  each 
saw  this.  The  impression  here  of  a  very  mar- 
vellous exhibition  of  the  Divine  power,  so  near 
akin  to  that  of  creative  energy,  was  one  so 
broadly,  so  evenly,  so  slowly,  and  so  deeply 
made,  that  it  looks  to  us  just  what  we  might 
have  expected  when  the  thousands  rise  from 
their  seats,  when  all  is  over,  and  say  one  to 
another,  what  they  had  never  got  the  length  of 
saying  previously,  "  This  is  of  a  truth  that  Pro- 
phet that  should  come  into  the  world."  No 
longer  any  doubt  or  vagueness  in  their  faith — 
no  longer  a  question  with  them  which  prophet 
or  what  kind  of  prophet  he  was.  He  is  none 
other  than  their  Messiah,  their  Prince.  He 
who  can  do  that  which  they  have  just  seen  him 


The  Five  Thousand.  221 

do,  what  could  be  beyond  bis  power  ?     He  may 
not  himself  be  willing  to  come  forward,  assert 
his  right,  exert  his  power— but  they  will  do  it 
for  him— they  will  do  it  now  ;  they  will  take 
him  at  once,  and  force  him  to  be  their  king. 
Jesus  sees  the  incipient  action  of  that  leaven 
which,  if  ahowed  to 'work,  would  lead  on  to 
some  act  of  violence.     He  sees  that  the  leaven 
of  earthliness  and  mere  Jewish  pride  and  am- 
bition has  entered  even  among  the  twelve,  who, 
as  they  see  and  hear  what  is  going  on,  appear 
not  unwilling  to  take  part  with  the  multitude. 
It  is  time  for  him  to  interfere  and  prevent  any 
such  catastrophe.     He  calls  the  twelve  to  him, 
and  directs  them    to  embark  immediately,  to 
go  alone  and  leave  him  there,  to  row  back  to 
Capernaum,  where,  in  the  course  of  the  night 
or  the  next  morning  he  might  join  them.     A 
strange     and    unwelcome    proposal — for    why 
should  they  be  parted,  and  where  was    their 
Master  to  go,  or  what  was  he  to  do,  in  the  long 
hours  of  that  lowering  night  that  was  coming 
down    in  darkness    and  storm  upon  the   hills 
and   lake  ?      They   remonstrate  ;   but   with   a 
peremptoriness  and  decision,  the  very  rarity  of 
which  gave  it  all  the  grea,ter  power,  he  over- 
rules their  remonstrances,  and  constrains  them 


222  The  Walking 

to  get  into  the  boat  and  leave  him  behind. 
Turning  to  the  muUitude,  whose  plot  about 
taking  and  making  him  a  king,  taken  up  by  his 
twelve  chief  followers,  this  transaction  had  in- 
terrupted, he  dismisses  them  in  such  a  way, 
with  such  words  of  power,  that  they  at  once 
disperse. 

And  now  he  is  alone.  Alone  he  goes  up  in- 
to a  mountain — alone  he  prays  there.  The 
darkness  deepens  ;  the  tempest  rises  ;  midnight 
comes  with  its  gusts  and  gloom.  There — some- 
where on  that  mountain,  sheltered  or  exposed 
— there,  for  five  or  six  hours,  till  the  fourth 
watch  of  the  night,  till  after  dawn — Jesus  holds 
his'  secret  and  close  fellowship  with  Heaven. 
Into  the  privacies  of  those  secluded'  hours  of 
his  devotion  we  presume  not  to  intrude.  But 
if,  as  we  shall  presently  see  was  actually  the 
case,  this  threatened  outbreak  of  a  blinded  pop- 
ular impulse  in  his  favor — the  attempt  thus 
made,  and  for  the  moment  thwarted,  to  take 
him  by  force  and  make  him  a  king— created  a 
marked  crisis  in  the  history  of  our  Lord's  deal- 
ings with  the  multitudes,  as  well  as  of  their 
disposition'  and  conduct  towards  him, — this 
night  of  lonely  prayer  is  to  be  put  alongside  of 
the  other  instances  in  which,  upon  important 


Upon  the  Water.  223 

emergencies,  our  Saviour  had  recourse  to  pri- 
vacy and  prayer,  teaching  us,  by  his  great  ex- 
ample, where  our  refuge  and  our  strength  in  all 
Uke  circumstances  are  to  be  found. 

Meanwhile  it  has  fared  ill  with  the  disciples 
on  the  lake.  Two  or  three  hours'  hearty  labor 
at  the  oar  might  have  carried  them  over  to  Ca- 
pernaum. But  the  adverse  tempest  is  too 
strong  for  them.  The  whole  night  long  they 
toil  among  the  waves,  against  the  wind.  The 
day  had  dawned,  a  dim  light  from  the  east  was 
spreading  over  the  water;  they  had  rowed 
about'five-and-twenty  or  thirty  furlongs — were 
rather  more  than  half-way  across  the  lake — 
when,  treading  on  the  troubled  waves,  as  on  a 
level,  sohd  pavement,  a  figure  is  seen  ap- 
proaching, drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
boat.  Their  toil  is  changed  to  terror — the  vig- 
orous hand  relaxes  its  grasp — the  oars  .stand 
still  in  the  air  or  are  but  feebly  plied — the  boat 
rocks  heavily — a  cry  of  terror  comes  from  the 
frightened  crew — they  think  it  is  a  spirit.  He 
made  as  though  he  would  have  passed  them  by 
— they  cry  out  the  more.  For  though  so  like 
their  Master  as  they  now  see  the  form  to  be,  yet 
if  he  go  past  them  in  silence,  it  cannot  be  other 
than  his  ghost      But  now  he  turns,  and,  dispel- 


224  The  Wauhnq 

ling  at  once  all  doubt  and  fear,  he  says,  "  Be  of 
good  cheer;  it  is  I, — be  not  afraid."  He  is 
but  a  few  yards  from  the  boat,  when,  leaping 
at  once — as  was  no  strange  thing  with  him — - 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other,  Peter  says, 
"Lord,  if  it  be  thou" — or  rather,  for  we  can- 
not think  that  he  had  any  doubt  as  to  Christ's 
identity — "Since  it  is  thou,  let  me  come  unto 
thee  on  the  water."  Why  not  wait  till  Jesus 
comes  into  the  boat?  Because  he  is  so 
pleased,  so  proud  to  see  his  Master  tread  with 
such  victorious  footstep  the  restless  devouring 
deep  ;  because  he  wants  to  share  the  triumph 
of  the  deed — to  walk  side  by  side,  before  his 
brothers,  with  Jesus,  though  it  be  but  a  step 
or  two. 

He  gets  the  permission — he  makes  the  at- 
tempt— is  at  first  successful.  So  long  as  he 
keeps  his  eye  on  Jesus — so  long  as  that  faith 
which  prompted  the  proposal,  that  sense  of  de- 
pendence in  which  the  first  step  out  of  the  boat 
and  down  upon  the  deep  was  taken,  remain  un- 
shaken— all  goes  well.  But  he  has  scarce 
moved  off  from  the  boat  when  he  looks  away 
from  Christ,  and  out  over  the  tempestuous  sea 
The  wind  is  not  more  boisterous — the  waves  are 
not  higher  or  rougher  than  they  were  the  mo- 


Upon  the  Water.  225 

ment  before — but  be  was  not  tbinking  of  tbem 
then.  He  was  looking  at — be  was  tbinking  of 
— be  was  banging  upon — bis  Master  tben. 
Now  be  looks  at — tbhiks  only  of — wind  and 
wave.  His  faitb  begins  to  fail — fearing,  be  be- 
gins to  sink — sinking,  be  fixes  bis  eye  afiesb 
and  most  earnestly  on  Jesus.  Tbe  eye,  affect- 
ing tbe  beart,  rekindling  faitb  in  tbe  very  bosom 
of  despair,  be  cries  out,  ''Lord,  save  me."  It 
was  tbe  cry  of  weakness — of  wild  alarm,  yet  i( 
bad  in  it  one  grain  of  gold.  It  was  a  cry  to 
Jesus  as  to  tbe  only  one  tbat  now  could  belp 
-^some  true  faitb  mingling  now  witb  all  tbe 
fear. 

Tbe  belp  so  sougbt  for  came  at  once.  "  Im- 
mediately Jesus  stretcbed  fortb  bis  band  and 
caugbt  him,  and  said  unto  bim,  0  tbou  of  little 
faitb,  wberefore  didst  tbou  doubt?"  At  tbe 
grasp  of  tbat  belping  band — at  tbe  rebuke  of 
tbat  cbiding  voice,  let  us  believe  tbat  faitb 
came  back  into  Peter's  breast,  and  tbat  not 
borne  up  or  dragged  tbrougb  tbe  waters,  but, 
walking  by  bis  Master's  side,  be  made  bis  way 
back  to  tbe  little  vessel  wbere  bis  comrades 
were,  to  take  bis  place  among  tbem  a  wiser 
and  bumbler  man.  As  soon  as  Jesus  and  be 
bad   entered  tbe  vessel,  we  are  told  tbat  tbe 


226  .      The  Walking 

wind  not  only  ceased,  but  that  "  immediately 
the  ship  was  at  the  land  wither  they  went." 
Of  those  who  were  in  the  ship  that  night  some 
were  exceedingly,  but  stupidly  amazed,  their 
hearts  hardened — untouched  by  the  multiplied 
miracles*  of  the  last  twelve  hours, — others 
came  and  worshipped  Jesus,  saying  "Of  a 
truth  thou  art  the  Son  of  God  " — one  of  the 
first  instances  in  which  this  great  title,  of  which 
we  shall  have  so  much  to  say  hereafter,  was 
applied  to  him. 

We  may  divide  the  miracles  of  our  Saviour 
into  two  classes : — 1.  Those  wrought  in  or 
upon  nature.  2.  Those  wrought  in  or  upon 
man.  Of  the  thirty- three  miracles,  of  which 
some  detailed  account  is  given  us  in  the  Gospels, 
nine  belong  to  the  former  and  twenty-four  to 
the  latter  class.  But  this  gives  no  true  idea  of 
the  mere  numerical  ratio  of  the  one  kind  of 
miracles  to  the  other.  It  is  but  a  very  few  of 
the  many  thousand  cases  of  healing  on  the  part 
of  Jesus,  of  which  any  record  has  been  pre- 
served ;  whilst  it  seems  probable  that  all  the 
instances  have  been  recounted  in  which  there 
was  any  intervention  with  the  laws  or  processes 

*  Mark  vi.  51,  52. 


Upon  the  Water.  227 

of  the  material  universe.  It  is  remarkable  at 
least,  that  of  the  small  number  of  this  class  a 
repetition  of  the  same  miracle  is  twice  recorded 
• — that  of  the  multiplying  of  bread,  and  of  an 
extraordinary  draught  of  fishes.  Looking 
broadly  at  these  two  classes  of  miracles,  it 
might  appear  like  a  discriminating  difference  be- 
tween them — that  the  one,  the  miracles  on 
nature,  were  more  works  of  power,  the  mira- 
cles on  man  more  works  of  love.  And  admit- 
ting for  the  moment  the  existence  of  some 
ground  for  this  distinction,  it  pleases  us  to 
think  what  a  vast  preponderance  Christ's  works 
of  love  had  over  his  works  of  power.  But  it  is 
only  to  a  very  limited  extent  that  we  are  dis- 
posed to  admit  the  truth  of  this  distinction. 
We  know  of  no  miracle  of  our  Lord  that  was  a 
mere  miracle  of  power — a  mere  display  of  his 
omnipotence — a  mere  sign  wrought  to  prove 
that  he  was  Almighty.  Every  miracle  of  our 
Saviour  carried  with  it  a  lesson  of  wisdom — 
gave  an  exhibition  of  his  character — was  a  type 
in  some  lower  sphere  of  his  working  as  the 
Redeemer  of  our  souls.  In  a  far  more  intimate 
sense  than  any  of  them  was  an  outward  proof 
of  his  Divine  authority,  they  were  all  instances, 
or  illustrations  in  more  shadowy  or  more  sub- 


228  The  Walking 

stantial  form,  x)f  the  remedial  dispensations  of 
his  mercy  and  grace  in  and  upon  the  sinful 
children  of  men — wrought  by  him,  and  recorded 
now  for  us — far  more  to  teach  us  what,  as  our 
Saviour,  he  is — what  he  has  already  done,  and 
what  he  is  prepared  to  do  for  us  spiritually — • 
than  to  put  into  our  hands  evidence  of  the 
divinity  of  his  mission. 

Let  us  take  the  two  miracles  that  we  have 
now  before  us,  both  of  which  belong  to  the 
first  and  smaller  class — the  miracles  on  nature. 
Had  it  been  the  purpose  of  our  Lord  to  make 
a  mere  display  of  his  omnipotence  in  the  feed- 
ing of  five  thousand  men,  one  can  readily 
imagine  of  its  being  done  in  a  far  more  visible 
and  striking  style  than  the  one  chosen.  He 
could  have  had  the  men,  women,  and  children 
go  and  gather  up  the  stones  of  the  desert  or  of 
the  lakeside,  and  as  they  did  so  could  have 
turned  each  stone  into  bread.  Or  he  could 
have  brought  forth  the  five  loaves,  and  in  pre- 
sence of  all  the  people  have  multiplied  them 
into  five  thousand  by  a  wave  of  his  hand — by 
a  word  of  his  power.  He  chose  rather,  here 
as  elsewhere — might  we  not  say  as  every- 
where ? — to  veil  the  workings  of  his  omnipo- 
tence— to  hide,  as  it  were,  the  working  of  his 


XJpoi,  -^HE  "Water. 


229 


hand   and  power,    mingling   it   with   that   of 
human  hands   and   common  earthly  elements. 
How  much  more  it  was  our  Lord's  design  to 
convey  a  lessor,  of  instruction  than  to  give  a 
display  of  his  almightiness,  we  shall  better  be 
able  to  judge  when  we  have  before  us  his  own 
discourse,    illustrative    of    this    very   miracle, 
delivered  on  the  following  day.     We  shall  then 
see   how  apt,  and   singular,    and   recondite   a 
symbolism  of  what  he  spiritually  is  to  all  true 
believers  lay  wrapped  up  in  his  blessing,  and 
breaking,  and  dividing  the  bread. 

But  further  still,  was  not  the  agency  of  all 
his  ministering  servants,  of  all  his  true  disciples, 
most  truly,  vividly,  picturesquely  represented 
in  what   happened  upon  that  mountain  sidej 
"  Give   ye   them   to  eat,"   such   were   Christ's 
words  to  his  apostles,  as  he  handed  to  each  of 
them  his  portion  of  the  five  loaves  and  the  two 
fishes.     Take  and  break  and  give  to  one  an- 
other, such  were   the    apostles'    words  to  the 
nmltitude.     And  as  each  took  and  broke,  the 
half  that  he  kept  for  himself  grew  within  the 
hand  that  broke  it,  as  did  in  turn  the   other 
half  he  handed  to  his  neighbor.     Such  was  the 
rule  and  method  of  the  distribution  and  multi- 
plication of  the  bread  given  to  the  thousands 


230  The  Walking 

on  the  desert  place  of  Bethsaida.  Such  is  the 
rule  and  method  of  the  distribution  and  multi- 
pUcation  of  the  bread  of  hie. 

Let  us  gladly  and  gratefully  accept  the  lessons 
that  the  miracle  conveys.  Let  us  beheve,  and 
act  upon  the  belief,  that  the  readier  we  are  to 
distribute  of  that  bread  to  others,  the  fuller  and 
the  richer  shall  be  our  own  supply — that  we 
do  not  lose  but  gain  by  giving  here — that  there 
is  that  scattereth  here  and  yet  increaseth, 
From  hand  to  hand  let  the  life-giving  bread  be 
passed,  till  all  the  hungry  and  perishing  get 
their  portion — till  all  eat  and  are  satisfied. 

Or  look  again  at  the  other  miracle — that  of 
walking  upon  the  water.  It  was  indeed  a  mir- 
acle of  power,,  but  one  also  of  pity  too,  and 
love.  He  came  in  the  morning  watch,  far 
more  to  relieve  from  toil  and  protect  from  dan- 
ger his  worn-out  and  exposed  disciples,  than 
merely  to  show  that  the  sovereignty  over  na- 
ture was  in  his  hands.  Nor  did  he  let  that 
coming  pass  without  an  incident  pregnant  with 
spiritual  instruction  to  us  also ;  for  is  there  not 
much  in  each  of  us  of  Peter's  weakness  ?  We 
may  not  have  his  first  courage  or  faith — foi 
there  was  much  of  both  in  the  stepping  out  of 
the  boat ;  or  we  may  not  share  in  his  impetu 


Upon  the  Water.  231 

ousness  and  over-confidence  ;  and  so  we  may 
not  throw  ourselves  among  the  waves  and  winds. 
But  often  nevertheless  thej  are  around  us  ;  and 
too  apt  are  we,  when  so  it  happens  with  us,  to 
look  at  them — to  think  of  our  difficulties  and 
our  trials  and  our  temptations,  till,  Christ  for- 
gotten and  out  of  sight,  we  begin  to  sink,  hap- 
py only  if  in  our  sinking  we  turn  to  him,  and 
his  hand  be  stretched  out  to  save  us.  In  his 
extremity,  it  was  not  Peter's  laying  hold  of 
Christ,  it  vras  Christ's  laying  hold  of  him  that 
bore  him  up.  And  in  our  extremity  it  is  not 
our  hold  of  Jesus,  but  his  of  us,  on  which  our 
trust  resteth.  Our  hand  is  weak,  but  his  is 
strong  ;  ours  so  readily  relaxes — too  often  lets 
go  its  hold  ;  but  his — none  can  pluck  out  of  it, 
and  none  that  are  in  it  can  perish. 


XI. 


THE  DISCOURSE   IN   THE   SYNAGOGUE   OF   CAPER- 
NAUM.* 

WHEN,  after  a  single  day's  absence  on 
the  other  side  of  the  lake,  Jesus  and 
his  disciples  returned  to  the  land  of  Gennesa- 
ret,  so  soon  as  they  were  come  out  of  the  ship, 
"  straightway,"  we  are  told,  "  they  knew  him, 
and  ran  through  that  whole  region  round 
about,  and  sent  out  into  all  that  country,  and 
brought  to  him  all  that  were  diseased,  and  be- 
gan to  carry  about  in  beds  those  that  were 
sick  ;  and  whithersoever  he  entered,  into  villa- 
ges ,  or  cities,  or  country,  they  laid  the  sick  in 
the  streets,  and  besought  him  that  they  might 
touch  if  it  were  but  the  border  of  his  garment : 
and  as  many  as  touched  him  were  made 
whole. "f 

Never  before  had  there  appeared  to  be  so 

*  John  vi.  22-71.  t  Matt.  xiv.  35  ;  Mark.  vi.  54-56. 


The  Discouese  in  the  Synagogue.       233 

great  and  so  lively  an  interest  in  his  teaching, 
or  so  large  a  measure  of  faith  in  his  healing 
power.  But  behind  this  show  of  things  Jesus 
saw  that  there  was  little  or  no  readiness  to  re- 
ceive him  in  his  highest  character  and  office. 
Some  were  prepared  to  acknowledge  him  as 
Elias,  or  one  of  the  prophets  ;  some,  like  Herod, 
to  hail  him  as  the  Baptist  risen  from  dead  ; 
others,  like  the  multitude  on  the  lake-side,  to 
take  him  by  force  and  make  him  a  king  ;  but 
the  notions  of  all  alike  concerning  him  and  his 
mission  were  narrow,  natural,  earthly,  selfish, 
unspiritual.  It  is  at  this  very  culminating 
point  of  his  wonderful  apparent  popularity, 
that  Jesus  begins  to  speak  and  act  as  if  the 
hope  were  gone  of  other  and  higher  notions  of 
himself  and  of  the  kingdom  of  God  being  en- 
tertained by  the  nation  at  large.  Hitherto  he 
had  spoken  much  about  that  kingdom,  and  but 
little  about  himself;  leaving  his  place  therein 
to  be  inferred  from  what  he  said  and  did.  He 
had  spoken  much  about  the  dispositions  that 
were  to  be  cultivated,  the  duties  that  were  to 
be  done,  the  trials  that  were  to  be  borne,  the 
blessedness  that  was  to  be  enjoyed  by  those 
admitted  into  the  kingdom — of  which  earlier 
teachmg  St.  Matthew  had  preserved  a  full  and 


234  The  Discourse  in  the 

perfect  specimen  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount ; 
but  he  had  said  httle  or  nothing  of  the  one  hv- 
ing  central  spring  of  hght  and  hfe  and  hohness 
and  joy  within  that  kingdom,  giving  to  it  its 
being,  character,  and  strength.  In  plainer  or 
in  clearer  guise  he  had  proclaimed  to  the  mul- 
titude those  outer  things  of  the  kingdom  whose 
setting  forth  should  have  allured  them  into  it ; 
but  its  inner  things  had  either  been  kept  back 
from  sight,  or  presented  in  forms  draped 
around  with  a  thick  mantle  of  obscurity.  He 
had  never  once  hinted  at  his  own  approaching 
death  as  needful  to  its  establishment — as  lay- 
ing, in  fact,  the  foundation  upon  which  it  was 
to  rest ;  nor  had  he  spoken  of  the  singular  ties 
by  which  all  its  subjects  were  to  be  united  per- 
sonally to  him,  and  to  which  their  entrance 
and  standing  and  privileges  within  the  king- 
dom were  to  be  wholly  due.  Now,  however, 
for  the  first  time  in  public,  he  alludes  to  his 
death,  in  such  a  way  indeed  as  few  if  any  of 
his  hearers  could  then  understand,  yet  one  that 
assigned  to  it  its  true  place  in  the  economy  of 
our  redemption.  Now  for  the  first  time  in 
public  he  speaks  openly  and  most  emphatically 
of  what  he  is  and  must  be  to  all  who  are  saved  ; 
proclaiming  a  supreme  attachment  to  himself, 


SiNAGOGUE  OF  CaPEBNAUM.        235 

an  entire  and  exclusive  dependence  on  himself, 
a  vital  incorporating  union  with  himself,  to  be 
the  primary  and  essential  characteristic  of  all 
true  subjects  of  that  kingdom  which  he  came 
down  from  heaven  to  set  up  on  earth.  From 
this  time  he  gives  up  apparently  the  project  of 
gaining  new  adherents  ;  withdraws  from  the 
crowds,  forsakes  the  more  populous  districts  of 
Gralilee,  devotes  himself  to  his  disciples,  retires 
with  them  to  remote  parts  of  the  country,  dis- 
courses with  them  about  his  approaching  de- 
cease, unfolding,  as  he  had  not  done  before, 
both  publicly  and  privately,  the  profounder 
mysteries  of  his  person  and  of  his  work. 

To  the  discourse  recorded  by  St.  John  in 
the  sixth  chapter  of  his  Gospel,  the  special 
interest  attaches  that  it  marks  this  transition 
point  in  the  teachings  and  actings  of  our  Lord. 
The  great  body  of  those  miraculously  fed  upon 
the  five  loaves  and  the  two  fishes  dispersed  at 
the  command  of  Christ,  and  sought  their  homes 
or  new  camping  grounds.  A  number,  how- 
ever, still  lingered  near  the  spot  where  the 
miracle  had  been  performed.  They  had  seen 
the  apostles  go  off  without  Jesus.  They  had 
noticed  that  the  boat  they  sailed  in  was  the 
only  one  that  had  left   the   shore      They  ex- 


236  The  Discourse  m  the 

pected  to  meet  Christ  again  next  morning ; 
but,  though  they  sought  for  him  everywhere 
around,  they  could  not  find  him.  He  must 
have  taken  some  means  to  follow  and  rejoin 
his  disciples,  though  what  these  were  they  can- 
not fancy.  In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  some 
boats  come  over  from  Tiberias,  of  which  they 
take  advantage  to  recross  the  lake.  After 
searching  for  him  in  the  land  of  G-ennesaret 
they  find  him  at  last  in  the  S3magogue  of  Ca- 
pernaum. The  edge  of  their  wonder  still  fresh, 
they  say  to  him,  "  Rabbi,  when  camest  thou 
hither  ? " — a  mere  idle  question  of  curiosity,  to 
which  he  gives  no  answer.  A  far  weightier 
question  for  them  than  any  as  to  the  time  or 
the  manner  in  which  Jesus  had  got  here  was, 
why  were  they  so  eagerly  following  him  ? 
This^  question  he  will  help  them  to  answer. 
"  Verily,  verily,"  is  our  Lord's  reply,  "ye  seek 
me,  not  because  ye  saw  the  miracles,  but  be- 
cause ye  did  eat  of  the  loaves  and  were  filled." 
The  miracle  of  the  preceding  evening  had 
introduced  a  new  element  of  attractive  power. 
The  multitudes  who  had  previously  followed 
Jesus  to  get  their  sick  healed,  and  to  see  the 
wonders  that  he  did,  were  now  tempted  to  fol- 
low him,  in  the  hope  of  having  that   miracle 


Synagogue  of  Capeenaum.  237 

repeated — their   hunger   again   reheved.     Sad 
m    heart  as   he  contrasted  their    eagerness  in 
this    direction    with   their    apathy  in   another, 
Jesus  said   to  them,  "Labor  not  for  the  meat 
wliich  perisheth,  but  for  that  meat  which  en- 
dureth  unto  everlasting  Ufe,  which  the  Son  of 
Man   shall   give  you  ;  for  him   hath  God  the 
Father  sealed."     A    dim   yet   somewhat   true 
idea   of  what  Christ   means    dawns    upon  the 
minds  of  his  hearers.     Accepting  his  rebuke, 
perceiving  that  he  points  to  something  required 
of  them  in  order  to  promote  their  higher  and 
eternal    interests  ;  knowing   no    other  way  m 
which   this  could  be  done  than   by  rendering 
some  service  to  God,  but  altogether  failing  to 
notice  the  allusion  to  the  Son  of  Man  and  what 
they  were  to  get  from  him, — "What  shall  we 
do,"  they  say,  "  that  we  may  work  the  works 
of  God  ?" — tell  us  what  these  works  are  with 
which  God  will  be  most  pleased,  by  the  doing 
of  which  we  may  attain  the  everlasting  life. 
"  This,"  said  Jesus,  "  is  the  work  of  God,  that 
ye  believe  on  him  whom  he  hath  sent."     It  is 
not  by  many  works,  nor  indeed,  strictly  speak- 
ing, by  anything  looked  at  as  mere  work,  that 
you  are  to  gain  that  end.     There  is  one  thing 
here  which  primarily,  and  above  all  others,  you 


238  The  Discourse  in  the 

are  called  to  do :  to  believe  on  him  whom  the 
Father  hath  sent  unto  you  ;  to  believe  on  me  : 
not  simply  to  credit  what  I  say,  but  to  put 
your  supreme,  undivided  trust  in  me  as  the 
procurer  and  dispenser  of  that  kind  of  food  by 
which  alone  your  souls  can  be  nourished  up 
into  the  life  everlasting.  It  was  a  large  and 
very  pecuhar  demand  on  Christ's  part,  to  put 
believing  on  himself  before  and  above  all  other 
things  required.  Struck  with  its  singularity, 
they  say  unto  him,  ''  What  sign  showest  thou 
that  we  may  see  and  believe  thee  ? — what  dost 
thou  work  ? "  If  thou  art  really  what  thou 
apparently  claimest  to  be — greater  than  all 
that  have  gone  before  thee,  greater  even  than 
Moses — show  us  some  sign  ;  not  one  like  those 
already  shown,  which,  wonderful  as  they  have 
been,  have  been  but  signs  on  earth  ;  show  us 
one  from  heaven  like  that  of  Moses,  "  when 
our  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the  desert,  as  it  is 
written,  He  gave  them  bread  from  heaven  to 
eat." — "  You  ask  me  " — such  in  effect  is  our 
Lord's  reply — "  to  prove  my  superiority  to 
Moses  by  doing  something  greater  than  he 
ever  did  ;  you  point  to  that  supply  of  the 
manna  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  his  miracles. 
But  in  doing  so  you  make  a  twofold  mistake. 


Synagogue  of  Capeenaum.  239 

It  was  not  Moses  that  gave  that  bread  from 
heaven.  It  came  from  a  higher  tlian  he — 
from  him  who  is  my  Father,  and  who  giveth 
still  the  true  bread  from  heaven  ;  not  such 
bread  as  the  manna  which  was  distilled  as  the 
dew  in  the  lower  atmosphere  of  the  earth, 
which  did  not  give  hfe,  but  only  sustained  it, 
and  that  only  for  a  limited  time  and  a  limited 
number.  The  true  *  bread  of  God  is  that* 
which  Cometh  down  from  heaven,  and  giveth 
life  unto  the  world.'  " 

Hitherto,  Jesus  had  been  speaking  of  a  food 
or  bread  which  he  and  his  Father  were  ready 
to  impart ;  describing  it  as  superior  to  the  ma- 
na,  inasmuch  as  it  came  from  a  higher  region 
and  discharged  a  higher  office,  supplying  the 
wants,  not  of  a  nation,  but  of  the  world ;  yet 
still  speaking  of  it  as  if  it  were  a' separate  out- 
ward thing.  Imagining  that  it  was  something 
external,  that  eye  could  see,  or  hand  could  han- 
dle, or  mouth  could  taste,  to  which  such  won- 
derful qualities  belonged,  with  a  greater  earn- 
estness and  reverence  than  they  had  yet  shown, 
his  hearers  say  to  him,  "  Evermore  give  us  this 
bread."     The  time  has  come  to  drop  that  form 

•  Not  "  he,"  as  in  our  translation. 


240  The  Discouese  m  the 

of  speech  which  Jesus  hitherto  has  used  ;  to 
cease  speaknig  abstractedly  or  figuratively 
about  a  food  or  bread,  to  tell  them  plainly  and 
directly,  so  that  there  could  be  no  longer  any 
misunderstanding,  who  and  what  the  meat  was 
which  endureth  unto  everlasting  life.  "Then 
said  he  unto  them,  I  am  the  bread  of  life  :  he 
that  Cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger,  and  he 
that  believeth  on  me  shaU  never  thirst."  I  am 
not  simply  the  procurer  or  the  dispenser  of  this 
bread,  I  am  more — I  am  the  bread.  If  you 
would  have  it,  you  must  not  only  come  to  me 
for  it,  but  take  me  as  it.  And  if  you  do  so — 
if  you  come  to  me  and  beheve  on  me — you 
shah  find  in  me  that  which  will  fully  and  abid- 
ingly meet  and  satisfy  all  the  inward  wants 
and  cravings  of  your  spiritual  nature,  aU  the 
hunger  and  the  thirst  of  the  soul.  Bring  these  to 
me,  and  it  shall  not  be  as  when  you  try  to  quench 
or  satisfy  them  elsewhere  with  earthly  things, 
the  appetite  growing  even  the  more  urgent 
while  the  things  it  feeds  on  become  ever  less 
capable  of  gratifying.  Bring  the  hunger  and 
ihe  thirst  of  your  soul  to  me,  and  they  shall  be 
filled.  But  ye  will  not  do  so,  ye  have  not  done 
so.  "  Ye  have  seen  me,  and  believe  not."  It 
may  look  thus  as  if  my  mission  had  failed,  as  if 


Synagogue  of  Capernaum.  241 

few  or  none  would  come  to  me  that  they  might 
have  hfe ;  but  this  is  my  comfort  in  the  midst 
of  all  the  preseut  and  prevailing  unbelief,  that, 
**  all  that  the  Father  giveth  me  shall  come  to 
me,"  their  coming  to  me  is  as  sure  as  their  do- 
nation to  me  by  the  Father.  But  as  sure  also 
as  is  his  fixed  purpose  is  this  fixed  fact,  "  him 
that  Cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out ;" 
for  I  came  down  from  heaven  on  no  separate 
or  random  errand  of  my  own,  to  throw  myself 
with  unfixed  purposes  amid  unforeseen  events, 
to  mould  them  to  unknown  or  uncertain  issues. 
I  came  "  not  to  do  mine  own  will,  but  the  will 
of  him  tliat  sent  me  :"  and  that  will  of  his  I 
carry  out  in  rejecting  none  that  come  to  me, 
in  throwing  my  arms  wide  open  to  welcome 
every  one  who  feels  himself  dying  of  a  hunger 
of  the  heart  that  he  cannot  get  satisfied,  in  tak- 
ing him  and  caring  for  him,  and  providing  for 
him,  not  letting  him  perish — no  part  of  him 
perish,  not  even  that  which  is  naturally  perish- 
able ;  but  taking  it  also  into  my  charge  to 
change  at  last  the  corruptible  into  the  incorrup- 
tible, the  natural  into  the  spiritual,  redeeming 
and  restoring  the  entire  man,  clothing  him  with 
the  garment  meet  for  a  blessed  and  glorious  un- 
mortalityj  for  "this  is  the  Father's  will  which 


242  The  Discourse  m  the 

hath  sent  me,  that  of  all  which  he  hath  given 
me  I  should  lose  nothing,  but  should  raise  it  up 
again  at  the  last  day."  Let  me  say  it  once 
again,  that  no  man  may  think  there  lies  any 
obstacle  to  his  salvation  in  a  preformed  purpose 
or  decree  of  my  Father,  that  all  may  know  how 
free  their  access  to  me  is,  and  how  sure  and  full 
and  enduring  the  life  is  that  they  shall  find  in 
me,  "  And  this  is  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me, 
that  every  one  that  seeth  the  Son  and  believeth 
on  him  may  have  everlasting  life  ;  and  I  will 
raise  him  up  at  the  last  day.'"* 

Overlooking  all  the  momentous  truths;  all 
the  gracious  assurances  and  promises  that  these 
words  of  Jesus  conveyed,  his  hearers  fix  upon 
a  single  declaration  that  he  had  made.  Ignor- 
ant of  the  great  mystery  of  his  birth,,  they  mur- 
mur among  themselves,  saying,  "  Is  not  this 
Jesus  the  son  of  Joseph,  whose  father  and 
mother  we  know  ?  How  is  it,  then,  that  he 
saith,  I  came  down  from  heaven  ?"  Jesus  does 
not  answer  these  two  questions,  any  more  than 
he  had  answered  the  question  they  had  put  to 
him  at  first  as  to  how  he  had  got  to  Caper- 
naum.    He  sees  and  accepts  the  ofience  that 

*  Compare  John  vi.  39  and  40. 


Synagogue  of  CArERNAUM  243 

had  been  taken,  the  prejudice  that  had  been 
created,  and  he  does  nothing  to  remove  it.  He 
enters  into  no  explanation  of  the  saying  that 
he  had  come  down  from  heaven  ;  but  he  will 
tell  these  murmurers  and  objectors  still  more 
plainly  than  he  has  yet  done  why  it  is  that  they 
stand  at  such  a  distance  and  look  so  askance 
upon  him.  "Murmur  not  among  yourselves." 
Hope  not  by  any  such  questions  as  you  are 
putting  to  one  another  to  solve  the  difficulties 
that  can  so  easily  be  raised  about  this  or  that 
particular  saying  of  mine.  What  you  want  is 
not  a  solution  of  such  difficulties,  which  are, 
after  all,  the  fruits  and  not  the  causes  of  your 
unbelief.  The  root  of  that  unbelief  lies  deeper 
than  where  you  would  place  it.  It  lies  in  the 
whole  frame  and  habit  of  your  heart  and  life. 
The  bent  of  your  nature  is  away  from  me. 
You  want  the  desires,  the  affections,  the  aims, 
the  motives  which  would  create  within  you  the 
appetite  and  relish  for  that  bread  which  comes 
down  from  heaven.  You  want  that  inward 
secret  drawing  of  the  heart  which  also  cometh 
from  heaven,  for  "  no  man  can  come  to  me  ex- 
cept the  Father  draw  him'' — a  drawing  this, 
however,  that  if  sought  will  never  be  withheld; 
if  imparted,  will  prevail,  for  "it  is  written  in 


244  The  Discouese  in  the 

the  prophets,  And  they  shall  be  all  taught  of 
God.  Every  man,  therefore,  that  hath  heard 
and  learned  of  the  Father  cometh  unto  me." 
Not  that  you  are  to  miagine  that  you  can  go  to 
him  as  you  can  go  to  me,  that  you  can  gee  him 
without  seeing  me,  can  hear  him  without  hear- 
ing me.  "  Not  that  any  man  hath  seen  the 
Father,  save  he  which  is  God,  he  hath  seen  the 
Father."  It  is  in  seeing  me  that  you  see  the 
Father.  It  is  in  hearing  me  that  you  hear  the 
Father.  It  is  through  me  that  the  drawing  of 
the  Father  cometh.  Open  eye  and  ear  then, 
look  unto  me,  hear,  and  your  soul  shall  live. 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  he  that  be- 
lieveth  on  me  hath  everlasting  life."  He  hath 
it  now,  he  hath  it  in  me.  "  I  am  that  bread  of 
life."  A  very  different  kind  of  bread  from  that 
of  which  you  boast  as  once  given  of  old  through 
Moses.  "Your  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the 
wilderness,  and  are  dead."  The  manna  had  no 
life  in  itself.  If  not  instantly  used,  it  corrupted 
and  perished.  It  had  power  to  sustain  life  for 
a  time,  but  none  to  ward  off  death.  The  bread 
from  heaven  is  life-giving  and  death-destroy- 
ing. "This  is  the  bread  which  cometh  down 
from  heaven,  that  a  man  may  eat  thereof  and 
net  die.     I  am  the  hving  bread  ;  if  any  man 


Synagogue  of  Capernaum.  245 

eat  of  this  bread  he  shall  Hve  forever,  and  the 
bread  that  I  will  give  is  my  flesh,  which  I  will 
give  for  the  life  of  the  world." 

However  puzzled  about  the  expression  of  his 
coming  down  from  heaven,  Christ's  hearers 
might  readily  enough  have  understood  him  as 
taking  occasion  from  the  recent  miracle  to  rep- 
resent himself,  the  truths  he  taught,  and  the 
pattern  life  he  led,  as  being  for  the  soul  of  man 
what  the  bread  is  for  his  body.  But  this 
change  of  the  bread  into  flesh,  or  rather,  this 
identifying  of  the  two,  this  speaking  of  his  own 
flesh  as  yet  to  be  given  for  the  life  of  the  world, 
and  when  so  given  to  be  the  bread  of  which  so 
much  had  been  already  said,  startles  and  per- 
plexes them  more  than  ever.  Not  simply 
murmuring,  but  striving  among  themselves, 
they  say,  "  How  can  this  man  give  us  his  flesh 
to  eat  ?" — a  question  quite  akin  to  that  which 
Nicodemus  put  when  he  said,  "How  can  a  man 
be  born  again  when  he  is  old  ?"  And  treated 
by  Jesus  in  like  manner,  by  a  repetition,  in  a 
still  more  stringent  form,  of  the  statement 
to  which  exception  had  been  taken  :  "  Yerily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  ye  eat  the  flesh 
of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  drink  his  blood,  ye 
have  no  life  in  you."     To  speak  of  eating  his 


246  The  Discoukse  m  the 

flesh  was  sufficiently  revolting  to  those  who 
understood  him  literally  ;  but  to  Jewish  ears, 
to  those  who  had  been  so  positively  prohibited 
from  all  use  of  blood  as  food,  how  inex- 
plicable, how  almost  impious,  must  the  speak- 
ing of  drinking  his  blood  have  been.  In- 
different to  the  effect,  our  Lord  goes  on  to  re- 
peat and  reiterate:  "Whoso  eateth  my  flesh, 
and  drinketh  my  blood,  hath  eternal  life  ;  and 
I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day.  For  my 
flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  my  blood  is  drink  in- 
deed. He  that  eateth  my  flesh,  and  drinketh 
my  blood,  dwelleth  in  me,  and  I  in  him.  As 
the  living  Father  hath  sent  me,  and  I  live  by 
the  Father :  so  he  that  eateth  me,  even  he  shall 
live  by  me.'* 

Such,  as  I  have  attempted  in  the  way  of 
paraphrase  to  bring  them  out  to  view,  were 
the  most  sahent  points  in  our  Lord's  address, 
and  such  the  hnks  by  which  they  were  united. 
Among  all  our  Lord's  discourses  in  Galilee  this 
one  stands  by  itself  distinguished  from  all 
the  others  by  the  manner  in  which  Cln-ist 
speaks  of  himself.  Nowhere  else  do  you  find 
him  so  entirely  dropping  all  reserve  as  to  his 
own  position,  character,  services,  and  claims. 
Let  him  be  the  Eternal  Son  of  the  Father  who 


Synagogue  of  Capeenaum.  247 

veiled  the  glories  of  Divinity,  and  assumed  the 
garb  of  mortal  flesh  that  he  might  serve  and 
suffer  and  die  for  us  men  and  our  redemption, 
then  all  that  he  here  asserts,  requires,  and 
promises  appears  simple,  natural,  appropriate. 
Let  the  great  truths  of  the  Incarnation  and 
Atonement  be  rejected,  then  how  shall  this  dis- 
course be  shielded  from  the  charges  of  egotisn. 
and  arrogance  ?  But  Christ's  manner  of  speak- 
ing to  the  people  is  here  as  unprecedented  as 
the  way  of  speaking  about  himself.  Here  also 
there  is  the  absence  of  all  reserve.  Instead  of 
avoiding  what  he  knew  would  repel,  he  seems 
rather  to  have  obtruded  it :  answering  no  ques- 
tions, giving  no  explanations,  modifying  no 
statements  ;  unsparingly  exposing  the  selfish- 
ness, ungodliness,  unbelief  of  his  auditors.  The 
strong  impression  is  created  that  by  bringing 
forth  the  most  hidden  mysteries  of  the  kingdom 
and  clothing  these  in  forms  fitted  to  give  offence, 
it  was  his  purpose  to  test  and  sift,  not  the  rude 
mass  of  his  Galilean  hearers  only,  but  the  circle 
of  his  own  discipleship.  Such  at  least  was  its 
effect;  for  "many  of  his  disciples  when  they 
heard  this,  said,  This  is  a  hard  saying ;  who  can 
hear  it  ?"  Jesus  does  not  treat  their  murmur- 
ing exactly  as  he  had  that  of  the  Jews  j  turn- 


248  The  Discouese  in  the 

ing  to  them,  he  says,  "Doth  this  about  my 
commg  down  from  heaven  offend  you?"  but 
"  what  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man  as- 
cend up  where  he  was  before  ?"  Doth  this 
about  eating  my  flesh  and  drinking  my  blood 
offend  you?  "It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth," 
the  mere  flesh  without  the  spirit  profiteth  noth- 
ing, hath  no  hfe-giving  power. 

It  is  by  no  external  act  whatever,  by  no  out- 
ward ordinance  or  service,  that  you  are  to  at- 
tain to  the  life  everlasting.  It  is  by  hearing, 
believing,  spiritually  coming  to  me,  spiritually 
feeding  upon  me,  that  this  is  to  be  reached. 
"The  words  that  I  speak  unto  you,  they  are 
the  spirit  and  they  are  the  life."  Still  I  know, 
for  I  must  speak  as  plainly  to  you  as  to  the 
multitude,  "that  there  are  some  of  you  that 
believe  not.  Therefore  said  I  unto  you,  that 
no  man  can  come  unto  me,  except  it  were 
given  unto  him  of  my  Father."  To  have  hard 
things  said,  and  then  to  have  the  incredulity 
they  generated  exposed  in  such  a  way  and 
attributed  to  such  a  cause,  was  what  many 
could  not  bc3ar  ;  and  so  from  that  time  many 
of  his  disciples  went  back  and  walked  no  more 
with  him.  With  infinite  sadness,  such  a  sorrow 
as  he  only  could  feel,  his  eye  and  heart  follow 


Synagogue  of  Capeknatim.  249 

them  as  they  go  away  ;  but  he  lets  them  go 
quietly  and  without  farther  remonstrance  ; 
then,  turning  to  the  twelve,  he  says,  "  Will  ye 
also  go  away?" — "Lord,"  is  Peter's  prompt 
reply,  "  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the 
words  of  eternal  life."  What  Jesus  thought  of 
this  confession  we  shall  see,  when  not  long 
afterwards  it  was  repeated.  Now  he  makes  no 
comment  upon  it ;  but  as  one  upon  whose 
mind  the  last  impression  of  the  day  was  that 
of  sadness  over  so  many  who  were  alienated 
from  him,  he  closes  the  interview  by  saying, 
"Have  I  not  chosen  you  twelve,  and  one  of 
you  is  a  devil." 

Such  were  its  immediate  original  results. 
What  would  be  the  effect  of  a  first  hearing  or 
first  reading  of  this  discourse  now  ?  We  can- 
not well  answer  the  question  ;  we  have  read 
and  heard  it  so  often,  its  phrases  are  so  famihar 
to  our  ears,  the  key  to  its  darkest  sayings  is  in 
our  hands.  Nevertheless,  are  there  not  many 
to  whom  some  of  its  expressions  wear  a  hard 
and  repulsive  aspect, — are  felt,  though  they 
would  scarcely  acknowledge  this  to  themselves, 
as  overstrained  and  exao-o-erated  ?  It  is  not 
possible  indeed  to  understand,  much  less  to 
sympathize  with  and  appreciate,  the  fullness 


250  The  Discouese  in  the 

and  richness  of  meaning  involved  in  many  of 
these  expressions,  miless  we  look  to  our  Lord's 
death  as  the  great  propitiation  for  our  sins, 
and  have  had  some  experience  of  the  closeness, 
the  tenderness,  the  blessedness  of  that  mystic 
bond  which  incorporates  each  living  member 
of  the  spiritual  body  with  Christ  the  living 
head.  Had  Jesus  spoken  of  himself,  simply 
and  alone  as  the  bread  of  life,  it  had  been  pos- 
sible to  have  understood  him  as  setting  forth 
his  instructions  and  his  example  as  furnishing 
the  best  kind  of  nutriment  for  the  highest  part 
of  our  nature.  Even  so  strong  a  phrase  as  his 
flesh  being  the  bread  might  have  been  inter- 
preted as  an  allusion  to  his  assumption  of  our 
nature,  and  to  the  benefits  flowing  directly 
from  the  Incarnation.  But  when  he  speaks  of 
his  flesh  being  given  for  the  life  of  the  world, 
— when  he  speaks  of  the  drinking  of  his  blood 
as  weU  as  of  the  eating  of  his  flesh,  pronounces 
them  to  be  the  source  at  first  and  the  support 
afterwards  of  a  life  that  cannot  die,  and  that 
shall  draw  after  it  resurrection  of  the  body, — 
it  is  impossible  to  put  any  rational  construction 
upon  phrases  like  these  other  than  that  which 
sees  in  them  a  reference  to  our  Lord's  atoning 
death  as  the  spring  and  fountain  of  the  new 


Synagogue  op  Capernaum.  251 

spiritual  life  to  which  through  him  all  true  be- 
lievers are  begotten. 

But  although  the  great  truth  of  the  sacrifi- 
cial character  of  Christ's  death  be  wrapped  up 
in  such  utterances,  it  is  not  that  aspect  of  it 
which  represents  it  as  satisfying  the  claims  of 
justice,  or  removing  governmental  obstacles  to 
the  exercise  of  mercj,  which  is  here  set  forth, 
but  that  which  views  it  as  quickening,  and  sus- 
taining a  new  spiritual  life  within  dead  human 
souls.  In  words  whose  very  singularity  and 
reiteration  should  make  them  sink  deep  into 
our  hearts,  our  Saviour  tells  us  that  until  by 
faith  we  realize,  appropriate,  confide  in  him, 
as  having  given  himself  for  us,  dying  that  w^e 
might  live — until  in  this  manner  we  eat  his 
flesh,  and  drink  his  blood,  we  have  no  life  in 
us.  Our  true  life  lies  in  union  with  and  like- 
ness unto  God,  in  peace  with  him,  fellowship 
with  him,  harmony  of  mind  and  heart  with 
him,  in  the  doing  of  his  will,  the  enjo3^ment  of 
his  favor.  This  life  that  has  been  lost  we  get 
restored  to  us  in  Christ.  "He  that  hath  the 
Son  hath  life."  We  begin  to  live  when  we  be- 
gin to  love,  and  trust,  and  serve,  and  submit 
to  our  Father  who  is  heaven  ;  when  distance, 
fear,  and  doubt  give  place  to  filial  confidence. 


252  The  Discourse  m  the 

"We  pass  from  death  unto  life,  when  out  of 
Christ  there  floweth  the  first  current  of  this 
new  being  into  our  soul.  The  life  that  thus 
emanates  from  him  is  ever  afterwards  entirely 
dependent  upon  him  for  its  maintenance  and 
growth. 

Every  living  thing  craves  food.  It  differs 
from  a  dead  thing  in  this,  that  it  must  find 
something  out  of  itself  that  it  can  take  in,  and 
by  some  process  more  or  less  elaborate  assim- 
ilate to  itself ;  using  it  to  repair  the  waste  of 
vital  energy,  to  build  up  the  life  into  full  ma- 
turity and  strength.  Such  a  thing  as  a  self- 
originated,  self-enclosed,  self-supporting  life 
you  can  find  nowhere  but  in  God.  Of  all  the 
lower  forms  of  life  upon  this  earth,  vegetable 
and  animal,  it  is  true  that  by  a  blind,  unerring 
instinct  each  seeks  and  finds  the  food  that  suits 
it  best,  that  is  fitted  to  preserve,  expand,  and 
perfect.  It  is  the  high  but  perilous  prerog- 
ative of  our  nature  that  we  are  left  free  to 
choose  our  food.  We  may  try,  do  try, — have 
we  not  all  tried,  to  nourish  our  souls  upon  that 
which  does  not  and  cannot  satisfy  ?  Business 
pleasure,  society,  wealth,  honor, — we  try  to 
feed  our  soul  with  these,  and  the  recurrent 
cravings  of  unfilled  hearts  tell  us  that  we  have 


Synagogue  or  Capernaum.  253 

been  doing  violence  to  the  first  laws  and  con- 
ditions of  our  nature  :  a  nature  that  refuses  to 
be  satisfied  unless  by  an  inward  growth  in  all 
goodness,  and  truth,  and  love,  and  purity,  and 
holiness.  It  is  to  all  of  us,  as  engaged  in  the 
endless  fruitless  task  of  feeding  with  the  husks 
of  the  earth  a  spirit  that  pants  after  the  glory, 
the  honor,  and  the  immortality  of  the  heavenly 
places,  that  Jesus  comes  saying,  "  Wherefore 
do  ye  spend  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread, 
and  your  labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ?" 
"  I  am  the  bread  of  life  ;  my  flesh  is  meat  in- 
deed, my  blood  is  drink  indeed." 

Bread  is  a  dead  thing  in  itself;  the  life  that 
it  supports  it  did  nothing  to  originate.  But 
the  bread  from  heaven  brings  with  it  the  life 
that  it  afterwards  sustains.  Secret  and  won- 
derful is  the  process  by  which  the  living  organ- 
ism of  the  human  body  transmutes  crude  dead 
matter  into  that  vital  fluid  by  which  the  ever- 
wasting  frame  is  recruited  and  reinvigorated. 
More  secret,  more  wonderful  the  process  by 
which  the  fullness  of  life  and  strength  and 
peace  and  holiness  that  lie  treasured  up  in  the 
living  Saviour  passes  into  and  becomes  part  of 
that  spiritual  framework  within  the  soul  which 
groweth   up    into  the   perfect   man   in   Christ 


25i  The  Discouuse  m  the 

Jesus.  In  one  respect  the  two  processes  differ. 
In  the  one  it  is  the  inferior  element  assimilated 
by  the  superior,  the  inorganic  changed  into  the 
organic  by  the  energy  of  the  latter  ;  in  the 
other,  it  is  the  superior  element  descending 
into  the  inferior,  by  its  presence  and  power 
transmuting  the  earthly  into  the  heavenly,  the 
carnal  into  the  spiritual.  There  are  forms  of 
life  which,  derivative  at  first,  become  indepen- 
dent afterwards.  The  child  severs  itself  from 
the  parent,  to  whom  it  owes  its  breath,  and 
lives  though  that  parent  dies.  The  bud  or  the 
branch  lopped  off  from  the  parent  stem,  rightly 
dealt  with,  lives  on  though  the  old  stem  wither 
away.  But  the  soul  cannot  sever  itself  from 
him  to  whom  it  owes  its  second  birth.  It  can- 
not live  disjoined  from  Christ,  and  the  life  it 
derives  from  him  it  has  all  the  more  abundantly 
in  exact  proportion  to  the  closeness,  the  con- 
stancy, the  lovingness  of  its  embrace  of  and  its 
abiding  in  him. 

Closer  than  the  closest  of  all  earthly  bonds  is 
the  vital  union  of  the  believer  with  Christ. 
One  roof  may  cover  those  who  are  knit  in  the 
most  intimate  of  human  relationships.  But  be- 
neath that  roof,  within  that  family  circle,  amid 
all  the  endearing  intercourse  and  communion 


Synagogue  or  Capeknaum.  255 

a  dividing  line  runs  between  spirit  and  spirit ; 
each  dwells  apart,  has  a  hermit  sphere  of  its 
own  to  which  it  can  retire,  mto  which  none  can 
follow  or  intrude.  But  what  saith  our  Lord  of 
the  connexion  between  hunself  and  each  of  his 
own?  *' He  that  eateth  my  flesh  and  dinnketh 
my,  blood,  dwelleth  in  me,  and  I  in  him  "  He 
opens  himself  to  us  as  the  hiding-place,  the  rest- 
ing-place, the  dweUing-place  for  our  spirit. 
We  flee  unto  hun,  and  he  hides  us  in  the  secret 
of  his  presence,  and  keeps  us  secretly  in  that 
pavilion.  What  a  safe  and  happy  home! 
How  blest  each  spirit  that  has  entered  it !  But 
more  wonderful  than  our  dwelling  in  him  is  his 
dwelhng  in  us.  What  is  there  in  us  to  attract 
such  a  visitant  ? — what  room  within  our  souls 
suitable  to  receive  him?  Should  he  come, 
should  he  enter,  what  kind  of  reception  or  en- 
tertainment can  we  furnish  to  such  a  guest? 
Yet  he  comes — he  deigns  to  enter — he  accepts 
the  poor  provision — the  imperfect  service. 
Nay,  more  :  though  exposed  to  many  a  shght, 
and  many  an  open  insult,  he  still  waits  on  ;  has 
pity,  has  patience,  forgets,  forgives  ;  acts  as  no 
other  guest  in  any  other  dwelling  ever  acted 
but  himself.  "  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and 
knock.     If  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and  open 


256  The  Discouese  in  the 

the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  sup  with 
him,  and  he  with  me."  "If  any  man. love  me, 
he  will  keep  my  words,  and  My  Father  will 
love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and 
make  our  abode  with  him." 

To  a  still  higher  conception  of  the  intimacy 
of  the  union  between  himself  and  his  own  does 
Jesus  carry  us:  "As  the  hving  Father  hath 
sent  me,  and  I  live  by  the  Father,  so  he  that 
eateth  me  shall  live  by  me."  It  would  seem 
as  if  all  the  earthly  imagery  elsewhere  employed 
— that  of  the  union  of  the  branches  with  the 
vine,  of  the  members  with  the  head,  of  the 
building  with  the  foundation-stone — however 
apt,  were  yet  defective,  as  if  for  the  only  lit, 
full  emblem  Jesus  had  to  rise  up  to  the  heavens 
to  find  it  in  the  closest  and  most  mysterious 
union  in  the  universe,  the  eternal,  inconceiva- 
ble, ineffable,  union  between  the  Father  and 
himself — "  That  they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou, 
Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee,  that  they  also 
may  be  one  in  us :  I  in  them  and  thou  in  me 
that  they  may  be  made  perfect  in  one." 

There  is  a  resemblance  approaching  almost 
to  a  coincidence  between  the  language  used  in 
the  synagogue  of  Capernaum  and  that  used  in 
the  upper  chamber  at  Jerusalem.     "The  bread 


Synagogue  of  Capeknaum.  257 

that  I  will  give,"  Jesus  said  to  the  promiscuous 
audience  of  Gralileans,  **  is  my  flesh,  which  I. 
will  give  for  the  life  of  the  world."  *'  Take, 
eat,"  such  is  the  language  in  instituting  the 
Supper  ;  "  this  is  my  body  broken" — or  as  St. 
Luke  has  it — "  given  for  you."  In  either  case 
the  bread  turns  into  the  flesh  or  body  of  the 
Lord.  There  had  been  no  wine  used  in  the 
feeding  of  the  five  thousand,  and  so  in  the 
imagery  of  the  synagogue  address,  borrowed 
obviously  from  that  incident,  no  mention  of 
wine  was  made.  There  was  wine  upon  the 
supper-table  at  Jerusalem,  and  so,  just  as  the 
bread  which  was  before  him  was  taken  to  rep- 
resent the  body,  the  wine  was  taken  to  repre- 
sent his  blood.  That  eating  of  his  flesh  and 
drinking  of  his  blood,  of  which  so  much  was 
said  at  Capernaum,  Jesus,  in  instituting  the 
ordinance  of  the  Supper,  taught  his  disciples 
to  identify  with  a  true  union  with  himself  So 
close  is  the  correspondence  that  many  have 
been  led  to  think  that  it  was  to  the  Eucharist, 
and  to  it  exclusively,  that  Jesus  referred  in  his 
Capernaum  address.  We  cannot  tell  all  that 
was  then  in  our  Saviour's  thoughts.  It  may 
have  been  that  in  imagination  he  anticipated 
the  time  when   he  should  sit   down  with  the 


258        The  Discourse  in  the  Synagogue. 

twelve.  The  Holy  Communion  may  have  beon 
in  his  eye  as  he  spake  within  the  Galilean  syn- 
agogue. But  there  is  nothing  in  what  he  said 
which  points  to  it  alone.  He  speaks  of  the 
coming  to  him,  the  believing  in  him  as  the  eat- 
ing of  the  bread  which  is  his  flesh.  He  speaks 
of  spiritual  life  owing  its  commencement,  as 
well  as  its  continuance,  to  such  coming,  such 
believing,  such  eating.  Is  it  in  the  ordinance 
of  the  Supper,  and  in  it  alone,  that  we  so  come 
and  believe,  eat  and  live  ?  Is  there  no  finding 
and  having,  no  feeding  upon  Christ  but  in  the 
Holy  Sacrament  ?  Freely  admitting  that  to  no 
season  of  communion,  to  no  spiritual  act  or  ex- 
ercise of  the  believer,  do  the  striking  words  of 
our  Lord  apply  with  greater  propriety  and 
force  than  to  that  season  and  that  act,  when 
together  we  show  forth  the  Lord's  death  till  he 
come  again,  we  cannot  confine  them  to  that 
ordinance. 


xn. 


PHARISAIC    TRADITIONS — THE    SYRO-FHCENICIAN 


WOMAN.* 


T 


HE  Pharisaic  party  was  well  orgaDized, 
watchful,  and  intolerant.  Its  chief  seat 
was  in  the  capital,  but  it  kept  up  an  active 
correspondence  with,  and  had  its  spies  in,  all 
the  provinces.  Its  bitter  hostihty,  aiming  at 
nothing  short  of  his  death,  which  had  driven 
Jesus  from  Jerusalem,  tracked  his  footsteps  all 
through  his  Galilean  ministry.  At  an  early 
period  of  that  ministry,  Pharisees  from  Jerusa- 
lem are  seen  obtruding  themselves  upon  him, 
and  now,  as  it  draws  near  its  close  another  com- 
pany of  envoys  from  the  capital  appear.  They 
come  down  after  the  Passover,  inflamed  by  the 
reports  carried  up  to  the  Feast  of  the  open 
rupture  that  had  taken  place  between  Christ 


Matt.  XV.  1-28  ;  Mark  vii.  1-30. 


260  Phaeisaic  Traditions. 

and  their  brethren  m  Gahlee.  They  come  to 
find  out  something  to  condemn,  and  they  have 
not  long  to  wait.  Watching  the  conduct  of 
Christ  and  his  disciples,  they  notice  what  they 
think  can  be  turned  into  a  weighty  accusation 
against  him  before  the  people.  Seizing  upon 
some  opportunity  when  a  considerable  audi- 
ence was  present,  they  say  to  Jesus,  "  Why 
do  thy  disciples  transgress  the  traditions  of  the 
elders?  for  they  wash  not  their  hands  when 
they  eat  bread." 

The  oral  or  traditional  law,  with  its  multi- 
pUed  precepts  and  manifold  observances  which 
had  grown  up  around  the  written  code,  had 
come  to  be  regarded  as  of  equal,  nay,  in  some 
respects,  of  superior  importance.  It  was  the 
wine,  the  rulers  said,  while  the  other  was  but 
the  water.  The  acknowledgment  of  its  author- 
ity forming  the  peculiar  distinctive  badge  of 
Pharisaism,  such  a  weight  was  attached  to  its 
observance  that  breaches  of  it  were  looked  up- 
on as  greater  sins  than  breaches  of  the  written 
law.  Among  these  was  that  of  eating  with  mi- 
washed  hands.  What  with  Persians,  Greeks, 
and  Romans,  was  but  a  social  custom,  the  ne- 
glect of  which  was  only  a  social  offence,  had 
been  raised  aaiong  the  Jews  by  the  traditions 


Phaeisaic  Teapitions.  2G1 

of  the  elders  into  a  religious  duty,  the  neglect 
of  which  was  an  offence  against  God.  And  so 
strict  were  they  in  the  observance  of  the  duty, 
that  we  read  of  a  Jew  of  the  Pharisaic  type  who 
being  imprisoned  and  put  on  a  short  allowance 
of  water,  chose  rather  to  die  than  not  to  ap- 
ply part  of  what  was  given  to  the  washing  of 
his  hands  before  eating.  We  can  have  now  bat 
an  imperfect  conception  of  how  great  the  sin  was 
then  thouo-ht  to  be  with  which  those  Pharisees 
from  Jerusalem  charged  publicly  our  Lord's  dis- 
ciples, aiming  their  real  blow  at  him  by  whose 
precept  and  example  they  had  been  taught  to 
act  as  they  had  done.  "Why  do  thy  disciples 
transgress  the  traditions  of  the  elders  ?  for  they 
wash  not  their  hands  when  they  eat  bread." 
No  explanation  is  given — no  defence  of  his  dis- 
ciples is  entered  on.  Our  Lord  has  ceased  to 
deal  with  such  questioners  as  being  other  than 
malignant  enemies.  He  answers  their  question 
only  by  another — "Why  do  ye  transgress  the 
commandment  of  God  by  your  traditions  ?'' 
And  as  they  had  specified  an  instance  in  wliich 
the  traditions  of  the  elders  had  been  violated 
i)y  his  disciples,  he  in  turn  specifies  an  instance 
in  which  they,  by  their  traditions,  had  nulHfied 
a  commandment  of  God.     JS'o  human  duty  was 


262  Pharisaic  Teaditions. 

of  clearer  or  more  stringent  obligation  than 
that  by  which  a  child  was  bound  to  honor,  love, 
and  help  his  father  and  his  mother.  The  com- 
mand enforcing  the  duty  stood  conspicuously 
enshrined  among  the  precepts  of  the  Decalogue. 
But  the  elders  in  their  traditions  had  found  out 
a  way  of  reading  it  by  which  the  selfishness,  or 
the  covetousness,  or  the  ill-will  of  a  child  might 
not  only  find  room  for  exercise,  but  might  cloak 
that  exercise  under  a  religious  garb.  All  that 
one  who,  from  any  evil  motive,  desired  to  evade 
the  obligation  of  assisting  his  parents  had  to  do, 
was  to  say  Corbaii  over  that  property  on  which 
his  parents  might  be  supposed  to  have  a  claim, 
to  declare  it  to  be  consecrated — bound  over  to 
the  Lord — and  he  was  free.  Father  or  mother 
might  no  longer  a^k  or  hope  for  anything  at 
his  hands.  The  property  might  still  be  his. 
He  might  enjoy  the  life  use  of  it ;  but  the  vow 
that  destined  it  to  God  must  come  in  before 
every  other  claim.  So  it  was  that  these  tradi- 
tionalists among  the  Jews  of  old  quenched  the 
instincts  of  nature,  gave  place  to  evil  passions^ 
and  broke  one  of  the  first  and  plainest  of  the 
Divine  commands,  all  under  a  pretence  of  piety. 
Nor  has  the  spirit  by  which  they  were  animat- 
ed in  doing  so  ceased  to  operate  5  nor  have  we 


Phakisaic  Traditions.  2G3 

far  to  go  before  an  exact  parallel  can  be  found 
to  the  Jewish  Corban  practice,  in  the  conduct 
of  those  who,  passing  by  the  nearest  relatives, 
whose  very  poverty  supplies  one  of  the  reasons 
why  they  are  overlooked,  bequeath  to  charita- 
ble or  religious  purposes  the  money  that  they 
cannot  carry  with  them  to  the  grave.     Neither 
charity  nor  piety,  however  broad  and  preten- 
tious the  aspects  they  take,  the  services  that 
they  may  seem  to  render,  can  ever  excuse  such 
a  tramphng  under  foot  of  the  primary  ties  of 
nature,  and   the  moral  duties  connected  with 
them.     And  upon  all  those  hospitals,  and  col- 
leges, and  churches  that  have  been  erected  and 
endowed  by  funds  unnaturally  and  improperly 
ahenated  from  near  and  needy  relatives,  we  can 
but  see  that  old  Jewish  word  Corban  engraved, 
and  beneath  it  the  condemning  sentence  of  our 
j^ord — "  Thus  have  ye  made  the  commandment 
of  God  of  none  effect." 

No  further  answer  will  our  Lord  give  to  the 
Pharisees  than  this  severe  retort.  But  first  to 
the  multitude,  and  afterwards  to  his  disciples, 
he  will  say  a  word  or  two  of  that  wherein  all 
real  defilement  consists — not  in  the  outward, 
but  in  the  inward  ;  its  source  and  seat  within, 
and  not  without.     In  the  evil  affections,  desires, 


264  pHAEisAic  Teaditions. 

and  passions  of  the  heart, — in  these  and  what 
comes  out  of  them  pollution  lies  ;  not  in  eating 
with  unwashed  hands  ;  nor  in  the  violation  of 
any  mere  external  conventional  traditional 
usage. 

Jesus  had  rolled  back  upon  the  Pharisees  a 
weightier  charge  than  they  had  brought  against 
his  discij)les.  He  had  not  hesitated  openly  to 
denounce  them  to  the  people  as  hypocrites,  ap- 
plying to  them  the  words  of  the  Prophet,  "  This 
people  draweth  nigh  unto  me  with  their  mouth, 
and  honoreth  me  with  their  lips  ;  but  their 
heart  is  far  from  me."  They  were  offended  at 
being  spoken  to  in  such  a  way.  Shunning  any 
further  outbreak  of  their  wrath,  seeking  else- 
where now  the  rest  and  the  seclusion  that  he 
had  sought  in  vain  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
lake,  Jesus  retired  to  the  borders  of  Tyre  and 
Sidon.  He  went  there  not  to  teach  nor  to  heal, 
but  to  enjoy  a  few  days'  quiet  and  repose  in 
the  lonely  hilly  region  which  looks  down  upon 
the  two  ancient  Phoenician  cities.  But  he 
could  not  be  hid.  The  rumor  of  his  arrival 
in  the  neighborhood  passed  over  the  borders  of 
the  Holy  Land.  It  reached  a  poor  afflicted 
mother — a  widow,  it  may  have  been — whose 
httle  daughter  was  suffering  under  the  frightful 


The  Syeo-Ph(enician  Woman.  265 

malady  of  possession.  This  woman,  we  are 
told,  was  a  Greek,  a  Syro-Phoenician  by  nation 
— a  Canaanite.  Phoenician  was  the  general 
name  given  to  a  race  whose  colonies  were 
widely  spread  in  very  ancient  times.  One  divi- 
sion of  this  race  occupied  the  country  from 
which  they  were  driven  out  by  the  Israelites  ; 
and  as  that  country  bordered  upon  Syria,  they 
were  called  Syro- Phoenicians  by  the  Greeks 
and  Romans.  It  was  to  this  tribe  that  the 
woman  belonged.  She  was  a  daughter  of  that 
corrupt  stock  whom  the  Jews  were  commis- 
sioned to  exterminate.  But,  besides  being  by 
nation  a  Canaanite,  she  was  a  Greek  ;  this 
word  describing  not  her  country,  but  her  creed. 
She  was  a  heathen,  an  idolatress — all  such,  of 
whatever  country,  being  then  called  Greeks  by 
the  Jews.  Such,  then,  by  birth,  by  pedigree, 
by  religious  faith  and  profession,  was  this  wo- 
man, the  first  and  only  Gentile — a  Canaanite 
besides — who  made  a  direct  personal  appeal 
for  help  to  Christ.  The  only  case  of  a  like 
kind  that  meets  us  in  the  Galilean  ministry  was 
that  of  the  Homan  centurion.  But  he  was  half 
a  Jew.  Moreover,  living  among  Jews,  he  had 
his  case  presented-  to  Jesus  by  the  rulers  of  the 
Jews,  who  had  the  plea  to  offer  on  his  behalf, 


266  The  Syeo-Phcenician  Woman, 

that  he  loved  their  nation,  and  had  built  them 
a  synagogue.  Here,  however,  is  a  Gentile, 
living  among  Gentiles,  who  has  no  Jewish 
friends  to  intercede  for  her,  no  services  ren- 
dered to  the  Jewish  people  to  point  to.  It  is 
a  pure  and  simple  case  of  one  belonging  to  the 
great  world  of  heathendom  coming  to  Jesus. 
How  is  she  received?  Her  case,  as  she  pre- 
sents it  to  his  notice,  is  of  the  very  kind  that 
we  should  have  said  he  would  be  quickest  to 
sympathize  with  and  reheve.  Meeting  him  by 
the  way,  she  cries  out,  in  all  the  eagerness  of 
passionate  entreaty,  "  Have  mercy  upon  me,  0 
Lord,  thou  son  of  David ;  my  daughter  is  griev- 
ously vexed  with  a  devil."  Jesus  had  opened 
willingly  his  ear  to  the  nobleman  of  Capernaum 
pleading  for  his  son  ;  to  Jairus  pleading  for  his 
daughter  ;  the  very  sight  of  the  widow  of  Nain 
weeping  over  the  bier  of  her  only  son  had 
moved  him,  unasked,  to  interfere.  Here  is 
another  parent  interceding  for  a  child  And 
that  child's  condition  is  one  of  the  most  pitiable 
■ — in  the  tender  years  of  girlhood  visited  with 
the  most  frightful  of  all  maladies,  in  one  of  the 
worst  of  its  forms, — grievously  tormented  with 
a  devil.  Such  a  mother,  in  the  agony  of  such 
a  grief,  crying  out  to  him  to  have  compassion 


The  Syro-Phoenician  Woiian.  267 

upon  her,  and  upon  her  poor  afflicted  child, 
will  surely  not  have  long  to  wait.  But  he 
hears  as  though  he  heard  not.  He  answers 
her  not  .a  word.  The  kindest  of  men  are  not 
always  equally  open-eared,  open-hearted,  or 
open-handed  to  the  tale  of  sorrow.  Take  them 
at  some  unlucky  moment,  and  a  cool  or  a 
rough  reception  may  await  the  most  clament  of 
appeals.  Has  anything  like  this  happened  to 
our  Lord?  Has  his  spirit  been  fretted  with 
that  late  contention  with  the  Pharisees,  wearied 
and  worn  with  the  kind  of  reception  his  own 
had  given  him,  so  that  ear,  and  heart,  and 
hand  are  all,  for  the  time,  shut  up  against  this 
new  and  unexpected  appeal  of  the  stranger  ? 

It  cannot  be.  Liable  as  he  was  to  all  com- 
mon human  frailties,  our  Lord  was  subject  to 
no  such  moral  infirmity  as  that.  Disappoint- 
ment, chagrin,  disgust  never  operated  upon 
him  as  they  do  so  frequently  on  us,  never 
quenched  the  benevolence  of  his  nature,  nor 
laid  it  even  momentarily  asleep.  We  must  look 
elsewhere  for  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  the 
silence — for  mystery  it  was.  The  disciples  no- 
ticed it  with  wonder.  Their  Master  had  never 
actec  so  since  they  had  joined  him,  had  never 
treated  another  as  he  is  treating  the  Canaanite. 


268  The  Syko-Phcenician  "Woman. 

But  though  her  cry  be  thus  received,  making 
apparently  no  impression,  moving  him  to  no 
response,  she  follows,  she  repeats  her  cry  ; 
continues  crjdng,  till  half  in  real  pity  for  her 
and  half  with  the  selfish  wish  to  be  rid  of  her 
importunity,  the  disciples  came  to  him,  saying, 
"  Send  her  away,  for  she  crieth  after  us,"  not 
that  they  wanted  her  to  be  summarily  dis- 
missed, her  request  ungranted.  Christ's  an- 
swer to  this  application  shows  that  he  did  not 
understand  it  in  that  sense  ;  that  he  took  it  as 
expressive  of  their  desire  that  he  should  do 
what  she  desired  and  then  dismiss  her, 

A  rare  thing  this  in  the  history  of  our 
Saviour,  that  he  should  even  seem  to  be  less 
tender  in  his  sympathy  for  the  afflicted  than 
his  disciples  were  ;  that  he  should  need  to  be 
importuned  by  them  to  deed  of  charity.  But 
all  is  rare  here  ;  rare  his  silence,  rare  their 
entreaty,  and  rare  too  the  next  step  or  stage 
of  the  incident.  Still  heedless  of  the  woman — ■ 
neither  looking  at  her,  nor  speaking  to  her,  nor 
apparently  feeling  for  her — Jesus  answers  his 
disciples  by  saying  to  them,  "  I  am  not  sent 
but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel." 
He  gives  this  as  his  reason  for  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  this  Gentile's  request.     And   it  is   so 


The  Si'ro-Phcenician  Woman.  209 

quietly  and  calmly  said  that  it  looks  like  the 
expression  of  a  lirni  and  settled  purpose.  The 
poor  suitor  hears  it.  Does  it  not  at  once  and 
forever  quench  all  hope  within  her  breast? 
His  silence  might  have  been  due  to  the  absorp- 
tion of  his  thoughts  with  other  things.  It 
might  be  difficult  to  win  the  attention  or  fix  it 
on  one  who  had  so  little  claim  on  his  regard. 
But  now  she  knows  that  he  has  heard,  has 
thought  of  her,  but  willfully,  deliberately,  as  it 
would  seem,  has  waved  her  suit  aside.  Child 
of  a  doomed  rejected  race,  well  mightest  thou 
have  taken  the  Saviour's  words  as  a  final  sen- 
tence, cutting  off  ah  hope,  sending  thee  back 
without  relief  to  thy  miserable  home,  to  nurse 
thy  frenzied  child  in  the  arms  of  a  dull  despair. 
But  there  was  in  thee  a  depth  of  affection  for 
that  poor  child  of  thine,  and  a  tenacity  of  pur- 
pose that  will  not  let  thee  give  up  the  case  till 
effort  after  effort  be  made.  There  is  in  thee, 
more  than  this,  a  keenness  of  inteUigence,  a 
quickness  to  discern,  that,  adverse  as  it  looked, 
an  absolute  refusal  did  not  lie  wrapped  up  in 
the  Saviour's  utterance.  He  is  not  sent  to  any 
but  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel,  but 
does  that  bind  him  to  reject  the  stray  sheep  of 
another  fold,  if  perchance  it  may  flee  to  hun 


270  The  SYRo-PH(ENicrAN  Woman. 

for  succor  ?  He  comes  as  a  servant,  with  in- 
structions to  confine  his  personal  ministry  to 
the  children  of  a  favored  race.  But  is  he  not  a 
son  too  as  well  as  a  servant  ?  Are  his  instruc- 
tions so  binding  that  in  no  case  he  may  go  by 
a  hand's-breadth  beyond  their  line,  when  so 
going  may  serve  to  further  the  great  objects 
of  his  earthly  .mission  ?  She  will  try  at  least 
whether  she  cannot  persuade  him  to  do  so. 
Undauntedly  she  follows  him  into  the  house 
into  which  she  sees  that  he  has  entered,  casts 
herself  at  his  feet,  and  says,  "  Lord,  help  me  !  " 
Before,  she  had  called  him  Son  of  .David,  had 
given  him  the  title  that,  from  intercourse  with 
Jewish  neighbors,  she  knew  belonged  to  him 
as  the  promised  Messiah.  But  nov/  she  drops 
this  title.  As  the  Son  of  David,  he  was  not 
sent  but  to  the  Jews.  She  calls  him,  as  she 
worships,  by  the  wider  name,  that  carries  no 
restriction  in  it,  gently  intimating  that  as  sove- 
reign Lord  of  all,  he  might  rise  above  his  com- 
mission, and  go  beyond  the  letter  of  the  in- 
structions he  had  received.  Lord,  she  says,  as 
she  looks  up,  adoringly,  beseechingly — Lord, 
help  me.  She  has  got  him  at  last  to  fix  his  eye 
upon  her.  Will  he,  can  he  refuse  to  help  ? 
Jesus  looks  and  says,  "  Let  the  children  first 


The  SYKO-PH(ENiCLiN  Woman.  271 

be  filled.  It  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's 
meat,  and  to  cast  it  to  dogs."  Last  and  worst 
repulse.  Bad  enough  to  be  told  that  she  lay 
without  the  limits  of  his  commission  ;  but 
worse  to  be  numbered  with  the  dogs.  Yet 
still  she  falters  not.  She  accepts  at  once  the 
reality,  the  justice,  the  propriety  of  the  dis- 
tinction drawn.  In  the  one  household  there 
were  the  children  of  the  family,  there  were  also 
the  dogs,  and  it  was  right  that  they  should  be 
fed  at  different  times  on  different  food,  'in  the 
great  human  household  differences  of  a  like 
kind  existed  ;  there  were  the  favored  sons  of 
Abraham  ;  there  were  the  outcast  children  of 
Ham  and  Japhet.  She  neither  disputes  the 
fact  nor  quarrels  with  those  arrangements  of 
Divine  Providence  under  which  a  different 
treatment  had  been  given  to  them, — she  takes 
the  lowly  place  that  Christ  has  given  her 
among  the  outcast  tribes — among  the  dogs  !  But 
have  not  the  dogs  and  the  children  all  one 
master  ?  Do  they  not  dwell  all  beneath  one 
roof?  May  not  even  the  dogs  look  for  some 
httle  kindness  at  their  master's  hands  ?  The 
finest  and  the  choicest  of  the  food  it  is  right 
that  the  children  should  have,  but  are  there  no 
fragments  for  them  ?     "  Truth,  Lord,"  she  says, 


272  The  Syeo-Phcenician  Woilvn. 

venturing  in  the  boldness  of  her  ardent  faith  to 
take  up  the  image  that  Jesus  had  used  or  had 
suggested,  and  to  construct  out  of  it  an  argu- 
ment, as  it  were,  against  himself — "Truth, 
Lord  ;  yet  the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  which 
fall  from  their  master's  table." 

"  Truth,  Lord,  but  thou  art  the  Master  ; 
and  there  dwells  in  thee  such  a  kind  and  loving 
heart,  that  I  will  not  believe, — no,  not  though 
thine  own  words  and  deeds  may  seem  to  de- 
clare it, — that  the  meanest  creature  in  thy 
household  will  be  overlooked  or  unprovided 
for.  Truth,  Lord,  I  am  not  a  child,  and  I  ask 
not,  expect  not,  deserve  not,  a  child's  favor  at 
thine  hands.  I  am  but  as  a  dog  before  thee, 
and  it  is  no  part  of  the  children's  food,  it  is  but 
a  crumb  from  thy  richly  furnished  table  that 
I  crave  ;  and  what  but  such  among  all  the  rich 
<  and  varied  blessings  that  thou  hast  come  to 
lavish  upon  thine  own — what  but  such  would 
be  the  having  mercy  upon  the  like  of  me,  and 
healing  my  poor  afflicted  child?"  The  Sa- 
viour's end  is  gained.  It  was  a  peculiar  case, 
and  Christ  had  met  it  in  a  peculiar  fashion. 
He  was  about,  still  more  distinctly  and  con- 
spicuously than  he  had  done  in  the  case  of  the 
Koman  officer,  by  act  and  deed   of  his   own 


The  Syro-Phcenician  Woman.  272 

hand,  to  unfold  the  mystery  that  had  been  hid 
for  ages,  that  the  Gentiles  should  be  fellow- 
heirs  with  the  Jews  of  the  great  spiritual  in- 
heritance of  his  purchase.  In  doing  so  he  de- 
sired to  make  it  patent  upon  what  ground  and 
principle  the  door  of  entrance  was  to  be 
thrown  open.  Here  was  a  Canaanitish  wo- 
man applying  to  him  for  help.  The  curing  of 
her  daughter  was  to  be  the  token  that  how- 
ever limited  for  the  time  his  own  personal  min- 
istry was  to  be,  it  was  not  to  be  fixedly  and 
forever  exclusive  in  its  character — confined 
alone  to  Jews.  Here  was  a  Canaanitish  wo- 
man about  to  be  numbered  with  those  on 
whose  behalf  his  Divine  power  went  forth  to 
heal.  To  vindicate  her  admission  within  the 
sphere  of  his  gracious  operations,  it  was  to  be 
made  manifest  that  she  too,  by  faith,  was  a 
daughter  of  faithful  Abraham.  Therefore  it 
was  that  her  faith  was  subjected  to  such  re- 
peated trial,  that  impediment  after  impediment 
was  thrown  before  it,  that  it  might  be  thor- 
oughly tested,  and  come  forth  from  the  ordeal 
shining  in  the  lustre  of  the  fullest  and  brightest 
manifestations. 

"  0  woman,"  said  Jesus   to  her,  when  the 
trial  was  over  and  the  triumph  complete,  "  0 


274  The  Syro-Phcenician  Woman. 

woman,  great  is  thy  faith !"  Many  things  be- 
side had  there  been  to  commend  in  her — her 
strong  maternal  love,  her  earnestness,  her  im- 
portunity, her  perseverance,  her  deep  humility. 
Over  all  these  the  Saviour  passes,  or  rather  he 
traces  them  all  up  to  their  common  root^her 
faith  in  him,  her  trust  under  all  discourage- 
ments— in  front  of  all  difficulties — in  opposition 
even  to  his  own  words  and  acts ;  her  trust  in 
his  goodwill  to  her,  in  his  disposition  to  pity 
and  to  help.  This  is  what  he  commends,  ad- 
mires. Two  instances  only  are  recorded  in 
which  Jesus  passed  such  an  approving  judg- 
ment, and  looked  with  such  admiring  regard 
upon  the  faith  of  those  who  came  to  him  ;  and 
it. is  remarkable  that  they  are  those  of  the  two 
G.entiles — the  Roman  Centurion  and  the  Syro- 
Phoenician  woman.  "  Verily,"  said  Le  of  the 
one,  "  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith  ;  no,  not  in 
Israel !"  "  Woman,'*  said  he  to  the  other, 
"  great  is  thy  faith !"  Great  faith  was  needed 
in  those  who  were  the  first  to  force  the  barrier 
that  ages  had  thrown  up  between  Jew  and 
Gentile,  and  great  faith  in  these  instances  was 
displayed.  Of  the  two,  however,  that  of  the 
purely  Gentile  woman  was  the  highest  in  its 
character  and  the  noblest  in  its  achievements. 


The  Syeo-Ph(enician  Woman.  275 

The  Roman's  faith  was  m  the  unhmitedness 
of  Christ's  power — a  power  he  beheved  so  great 
that  even  as  he  said  to  his  soldiers  "Go.!"' and 
they  went;  "Come!"  an-d  they  came;  "Do 
this !"  and  they  did  it, — so  could  Jesus  say  to 
disease,  and  life,  and  death  ;  curing  at  a  dis- 
tance !  saving,  by  the  simple  word  of  his'  pow- 
er !  The  faith  of  the  Canaanite  was  not  simply 
in  the  unlimited  extent  of  Christ's  power.  His 
power  she  never  for  a  moment  doubted.  He 
had  no  reason  to  say  to  her,  Believest  thou  that 
I  am  able  to  do  this  ?  But  his  willingness  he 
himself  gave  her  some  reason  to  doubt.  Thou- 
sands placed  as  she  was  would  have  doubted, 
— thousands-  tried  as  she  was  would  have  failed. 
Which  of  us  has  a  faith  in  Jesus  of  which  we 
are  quite  sure  that  it  would  come  through  such 
a  conflict  unscathed  ?  In  her  it  never  seems 
for  a  moment  to  have  faltered.  In  spite  of  his 
mysterious,  unexampled  silence — of  the  expla- 
nation given  of  the  silence  that  appeared  to 
exclude,— beneath  the  sentence  that  assigned 
her  a  place  among  the  dogs,  her  faith  lived  on, 
with  a  power  in  it  to  penetrate  the  folds  of  that 
dark  mantle  which  the  Lord  for  a  short  season 
drew  around  him — to  know  and  see  that  be- 
hind the  assumed  veil  of  coldness,  silence,  in 


276  The  Syeo-Phgenician  Woman. 

difference,  repulse,  reproach,  there  beat  the 
williiio;,  loving  heart,  upon  whose  boundless  be- 
nevolence she  casts  herself,  trusting,  and  not 
being  afraid.  This  was  her  confidence,  that 
there  was  more  love  to  her  in  his  heart  than 
the  outward  conduct  of  Jesus  might  seem  to 
indicate.  It  was  this  confidence  which  sus- 
tained her  from  first  to  last.  It  was  this  confi- 
dence which  carried  her  over  all  the  obstruc- 
tions thrown  successively  before  her.  It  was 
this  confidence  which  sharpened  her  wit,  and 
gave  her  courage  to  snatch  out  of  Christ's  own 
hand  the  weapon  by  which  her  last  and  great- 
est victory  was  won.  It  was  this  confidence  in 
him,  in  spite  of  all  adverse  appearances,  which 
pleased  the  Lord  so  much, — for  he  likes,  as  we 
all  do,  to  be  trusted  in, — and  which  drew  from 
him  the  unwonted  expression  at  once  of  appro- 
val and  of  admiration,  "  0  woman,  great  is  thy 
faith!"  It  is  the  same  kind  of  simple  trust  in 
Jesus  that  we  all  need  ;  and  in  us  too,  if  we 
but  had  it  in  like  degree,  it  would  accomplish 
like  blessed  results.  What  the  silence  and  the 
sentences  of  Jesus  were  to  that  entreating  wo- 
man, crying  after  Jesus  to  have  her  poor  child 
cured,  his  ways  and  his  dealings,  in  providence 
and  in  grace,  are  to  us  crying  after  him  for  the 


The  Syeo-Phgenician  Woman.  277 

healing  of  our  own  or  others'  spiritual  maladies. 
We  cry,  but  he  answers  not  a  word  ;  we  en- 
treat, but  he  turns  upon  us  a  frowning  counte- 
nance ;  when  he  speaks,  his  words  seem  to  cut 
us  off  from  comfort  and  from  help.  But  deal 
as  he  may  with  us,  hide  himself  as  he  may, 
speak  roughly  as  he  may,  let  us  still  believe 
that  there  exists  in  the  heart  of  our  Redeemer 
a  love  to  us,  upon  which  we  can  at  all  times 
cast  ourselves  in  full  unbounded  trust. 

"  Woman,  great  is  thy  faith  :  be  it  unto  thee 
even  as  thou  wilt.  And  her  daughter  was 
made  whole  from  that  very  hour." 


xm. 

THE  CIRCUIT   THROUGH   DECAPOLIS.* 

WE  have  now  to  follow  Jesus  through  one 
of  the  most  singular  of  his  journeyings. 
His  work  in  Galilee  was  done,  but  some  days 
still  were  left  ere  he  set  his  face  to  go  up  to  Je- 
rusalem. These  days  were  devoted  to  a  circuit 
which  carried  him  in  a  semicircle  round  the 
western,  northern,  and  eastern  boundaries  of 
Galilee,  keeping  him  outside  the  jurisdiction  of 
Herod,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Jewish 
hierarchy.  He  was  seeking  for  rest,  seclusion, 
security,  and  he  found  them  where  neither  the 
mistaken  attachment  of  his  friends,  nor  the  hate 
of  his  enemies  in  Galilee,  were  likely  to  follow 
him.  First  he  travelled  over  the  hilly  country 
that  lies  to  the  northwest  of  the  sea  of  Tiberias. 
There,  as   he  was  passing  out  of  the  Galilean 

*  Matt.  XV.  29-39  ;  xvi.  1-12 ;  Mark  vii.  31-37  •  viii.  1-26. 


The  Circuit  through  Decapolis.         279 

territory,  he  met  the  Syro-Phcenician  woman, 
and  by  the  manner  of  his  treatment  of  her  re 
vealed  at  once  the  simpHcitj,  humility,  te- 
nacity of  her  faith,  and  the  wide  embrace  of 
his  own  love  and  power.  Crossing  the  boun- 
dary-line that  divided  Palestine  from  Phoenicia, 
passing  the  ancient  city  of  Tyre,  he  proceeded 
northward  towards  Sidon,  getting  a  glimpse 
there — it  may  have  been  a  first  and  last  one — 
of  a  country  in  which  some  of  the  most  ancient 
forms  of  heathenism  still  subsisted,  in  the  wor- 
ship of  Baal  and  Astarte.  Then,  turning  east- 
ward, he  crossed  the  southern  ridge  of  Leba- 
non, descended  into  the  valley  of  the  Leontes, 
skirted  the  base  of  the  snow-capped  Hermon, 
and,  somewhere  not  far  from  the  sources  of  the 
Jordan,  entered  Decapolis.  This  was  the  name 
given  to  a  large  and  undefined  region  which 
lay  around  ten  cities,  to  which  peculiar  privi- 
leges were  granted  by  the  Romans  after  their 
conquest  of  Syria.  All  of  these,  with  a  single 
exception,  lay  to  the  east  and  southeast  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee.  At  length  he  came  upon  that 
sea,  touching  it  somewhere  along  its  eastern 
shore,  not  far,  it  may  have  been,  from  the  place 
where  he  once  before,  crossing  from  Caperna- 
um, had  landed  for  a  few  hours,  and  where  he 


280  The  Ciecuit 

cured  the  demoniac  of  Gadara.  At  the  c u 
treaty  of  the  multitude  Jesus  had  then  instant 
\y  retired,  not  suffering  the  man  upon  whom 
the  cure  had  been  wrought  to  accompany  him, 
but  directing  him  to  go  and  tell  what  had  hap- 
pened to  his  family  and  friends.  "'And  he  de- 
parted," we  are  told,  "and  began  to  pubhsh 
in  Decapolis  how  great  things  Jesus  had  done 
for  him  ;  and  all  did  marvel."  The  rumor  of 
that  miracle  was  still  fresh,  the  wonder  it  had 
excited  had  not  died  away,  when,  coming 
through  the  midst  of  the  coast  of  Decapolis, 
Jesus  sat  down  upon  one  of  the  mountains  that 
overlook  the  lake.  The  community  through 
which  he  had  been  moving  was  more  than 
half  heathenish,  the  Jewish  faith  and  worship 
having  but  little  hold  eastward  of  the  river  and 
the  lake.  Christ's  appearance  for  the  first 
time  among  this  rude  and  essentially  Gentile 
population,  and  the  readiness  with  which  he 
healed  the  deaf  man  that  had  an  impediment 
in  his  speech,  produced  the  very  effect  which 
in  such  circumstances  might  have  been  antici- 
pated. "  Great  multitudes  came  to  him,  hav- 
ing with  them  those  that  were  lame,  blind, 
dutnb,  maimed,  and  many  others,"  eagerly  but 
somewhat  roughly  casting  them  down  at  the 


Through  Decapolis.  281 

feet  of  Jesus  ;  wondering  as  at  an  altogether 
new  sight,  beyond  measure  astonished  when 
they  saw  the  dumb  made  to  speak,  and  the 
bhnd  to  see,  and  the  lame  to  walk,  and  glorify- 
ing, not  any  of  their  own  idols,  but  glorifying 
the  God  of  Israel,  in  whose  name  and  by  whose 
power  these  great  works  were  done.* 

Three  days  they  crowded  in  upon  Jesus,  till 
about  four  thousand  men,  beside  women  and 
children,  were  around  him  on  the  mountain 
side.  Many  of  them  had  come  from  a  distance, 
and  the  food  that  they  had  brought  with  them 
was  exhausted.  That  they  might  not  go  fast- 
ing away  from  him,  to  faint,  it  might  be,  on 
the  road,  Jesus  repeated  the  miracle  he  had 
once  wrought  before,  on  the  same  side  of  the 
lake,  but  at  a  different  season  of  the  year,  and 
for  an  entirely  different  sort  of  people.  Among 
the  coincidences  and  the  differences  in  the  nar- 
ratives which  the  evangelists  have  given  of 
these  two  miraculous  feedings  of  the  multitudes, 
there  is  one  not  preserved  in  our  English  ver- 
sion. After  the  five  thousand  were  fed  with 
the  five  loaves  and  the  two  fishes,  the  disciples^ 
we  are  told,  took  up  twelve  baskets  full  of  frag- 


•  aiatthew  XV.  30,  31. 


282  The  CmcuiT 

meuts.  After  the  four  tnousaiid  were  fed  with 
the  seven  loaves  and  the  few  small  fishes,  seven 
baskets  full  of  fragments  were  gathered.  In 
the  Greek  tongue  there  are  two  different  words, 
describing  two  vessels  of  different  size  and 
structure,  both  of  which,  without  any  mark  of 
distinction  between  them,  our  translators  of  the 
Bible  have  rendered  into  the  English  word 
"  basket."  It  is  one  of  these  words  which  in- 
variably and  exclusively  is  used  in  describing 
the  first  miracle,  and  the  other  which  is  as  in- 
variably and  exclusively  used  in  describing  the 
second.  The  employment  in  the  two  cases  of 
two  different  kinds  of  vessel  has  thus  been  dis- 
tinctly marked  and  preserved  as  one  of  the 
slighter  circumstantial  peculiarities  by  which 
the  two  events  were  distinguished  from  one 
another. 

The  multitude  having  been  fed  and  sent 
away,  Jesus  took  ship  and  sailed  across  the 
lake,  landing  on  its  western  shores  between 
Tiberias  and  Capernaum.  He  had  scarcely  re- 
appeared in  the  neighborhood  in  which  most 
of  his  wonderful  works  had  been  wrought,  when, 
once  again,  in  their  old  spirit  of  contemptuous 
challenge,  the  Pharisees  demand  that  he  would 
show  them  a  sign  from  heaven.     Now,  how- 


Through  Decapolis.  283 

ever,  for  the  first  time,  the  Sadclucees  appear 
by  their  side,  leaguing  themselves  with  the 
Pharisees  in  a  johit  rejection  of  Christ — in 
slighting  all  that  he  had  already  said  and  done 
— in  counting  it  insufficient  to  substantiate  any 
claim  on  his  part  to  be  their  Messiah,  and  in 
demanding  the  exhibition  of  some  great  wonder 
in  the  heavens,  such  as,  misreading  some  of  the 
ancient  prophecies,  they  falsely  thought  should 
precede  Christ's  advent.  Saddened  and  vexed, 
with  a  word  of  stern  rebuke  to  the  men  who 
stood  tempting  him,  and  a  deep  jsigh  heaved 
over  the  whole  village  to  which  they  belonged, 
Jesus  abruptly  departed,  embarking  in  such 
haste  that  the  disciples  forgot  to  furnish  them- 
selves with  more  than  a  single  loaf  As  they 
landed  on  the  other  side,  Jesus  charged  them 
to  beware  of  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees  and 
Sadducees.  The  pitiful  simplicity  which  they 
displayed  in  failing  to  see  what  Jesus  meant, 
and  in  imagining  that  because  he  had  used  the 
word  "leaven,"  it  must  be  their  having  failed 
to  brhig  bread  enough  with  them  that  he  was 
pointing  at,  stirred  the  gentle  spirit  of  their 
Master,  and  led  him  to  administer  a  more  than 
ordinarily  severe  rebuke,  the  main  weight  of 
which  was  laid,  not  upon  their  stupidity  in  not 


284  The  Circuit 

understcanding  him,  but  in  their  want  of  trust, 
their  forgetting  how  the  many  thousands  had 
been  provided  for  in  the  desert  and  on  the 
mountain  side. 

At  Bethsaida,  to  which  place  Jesus  went  on 
his  way  to  Ca3sarea  Phihppi,  they  brought  a 
bhnd  man  to  him,  and  besought  him  to  touch 
him.  This  case,  and  that  of  the  deaf  and  stam- 
mering man  brought  to  him  in  Decapohs,  have 
many  points  of  resemblance.  In  both,  those 
who  brought  the  diseased  to  Jesus  prescribed 
to  him  the  mode  of  cure.  They  besought  him 
to  lay  his  hand  upon  them,  or  to  touch  them. 
Was  it  for  the  very  purpose  of  reproving  and 
counteracting  the  prejudice  which  connected  the 
cure  with  a  certain  kind  of  manipulation  on 
the  part  of  the  curer,  that  Jesus  in  both  in- 
stances went  so  far  out  of  his  usual  course, 
varying  the  manner  of  his  action  so  singularly, 
that  out  of  all  his  miracles  of  healing  these  two 
stand  distinguished  by  the  unique  mode  ot  their 
performance  ?  This  at  least  is  certain,  that 
had  Jesus  in  any  instance  observed  one  settled 
and  uniform  method  of  healing,  the  spirit  of 
formalism  and  superstition  which  lies  so  deep 
in  our  nature  would  have  seized  upon  it,  and 
linked  it   inseparably  with   the    divine   virtue 


Through  Decapolis.  285 

that  went  out  of  him,  confounding  the  channel 
with  the  thing  that  the  channel  conveyed. 
More  and  more,  as  we  ponder  the  life  of  our 
Redeemer,  dwelling  particularly  on  those  parts 
of  it= — such  as  his  institution  of  the  sacraments 
— in  which  food  might  have  been  furnished 
upon  which  the  spirit  of  formalism  might  have 
fed,  more  and  more  do  we  wonder  at  the  pahis 
evidently  taken  to  give  to  that  strong  tendency 
of  our  nature  as  little  material  as  possible  to 
fasten  on. 

Besides,  however,  any  intention  of  the  kind 
thus  alluded  to,  the  variations  in  our  Lord's 
outward  modes  of  healing  may  have  had  special 
adaptation  to  the  state  of  the  individuals  dealt 
with,  and  may  have  been  meant  to  symbolize  the 
great  corresponding  diversity  that  there  is  in 
those  spiritual  healings  of  which  the  bodily  ones 
were  undoubtedly  intended  to  be  types.  Let 
us  imagine  that  the  deaf  stammerer  of  Decapolis 
was  a  man  whose  spiritual  defects  were  as 
complicated  as  his  phj^sical  ones  ;  whose  hard, 
unclean  heart  it  was  singularly  difficult  to 
reach  and  to  renew  ;  who  required  repeated 
efforts  to  be  made,  and  a  varied  instrumental- 
ity to  be  employed,  before  he  yielded  to  the 
power  of  the  truth,  or  was  brought  under  its 


286  The  Ciecuit 

benignant  sway.  Then  see  with  what  pictur- 
esque fidelity  and  appropriateness  the  slowness 
and  difficulty  of  the  one  kind  of  healing  was  sha- 
dowed forth  in  the  other.  Jesus  took  him  aside 
from  the  multitude,  went  away  with  him  alone 
into  some  quiet  and  secluded  place.  The  very 
isolation — the  standing  thus  alone  face  to  face, 
was  of  itself  fitted  to  arrest,  to  concentrate  the 
man's  thoughts  upon  what  was  about  to  hap- 
pen. Then  Jesus  put  his  fingers  into  his  ears, 
as  if  by  this  very  action  he  meant  to  indicate 
the  need  there  was  of  an  operation  which 
should  remove  the  obstruction,  and  that  his 
was  the  hand  to  do  it.  Then  with  a  like  intent 
he  touched  the  man's  dry  and  withered  tongue 
with  fingers  moistened  with  his  own  spittle. 
Then  he  looked  up  to  heaven  and  sighed — the 
sigh  unheard — but  the  look  upward,  and  the 
emotion  which  it  conveyed,  not  lost  upon  the 
man.  Then  after  all  these  preliminaries,  in 
course  of  which  we  may  believe  that  whatever 
of  incredulity  or  whatever  of  unbelief  there 
may  have  lain  within  was  being  gradually  sub- 
dued, at  last  he  said  EphphatJia,  and  the  ears 
were  opened  and  the  tongue  was  loosed. 

Two  things  here  were  peculiar,  the  sigh  and 
the   preserving  the    old  Aramaic  word  which 


Through  Decapolis.  287 

Jesus  used.  Never  in  any  other  instance  but 
in  this,  when  Jesus  was  about  to  heal,  did  a 
sigh  escape  from  his  hps.  What  drew  it  forth 
here  ?  It  may  have  been  that  as  he  drew  the 
man  aside  and  confronted  him  alone,  the  sor- 
rowful spe-ctacle  that  he  presented  became  to 
the  quick  sympathies  of  Jesus  suddenly  and 
broadly  suggestive  of  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to,  and  that  it  was  over  them  collectively 
that  the  sigh  was  heaved.  Such  interpretation 
of  its  meaning  leaves  unexplained  why  it  was 
this  case,  and  it  alone,  which  acted  in  such  a 
manner  upon  the  sympathies  of  the  Redeemer. 
But  the  sigh  may  have  had  a  deeper  source. 
If  this  were  indeed  a  man  whose  soul  was  diffi- 
cult of  reach  and  cure,  he  may  have  presented 
himself  to  Jesus  as  the  type  and  emblem  of 
those  obstinate  cases  of  spiritual  malady,  some 
of  which  would  so  long  resist  the  great  remedy 
that  he  came  to  the  earth  to  furnish. 

After  the  sigh  came  the  utterance  Ephplia- 
ilia,  a  word  belonging  to  that  dialect  of  the 
old  Hebrew  language  called  the  Aramaic  or 
Syro-Chaldaic,  which  was  then  current  in  Ju- 
dea.  But  if  that  was  the  language  which 
Christ  ordinarily  used — in  which,  for  example, 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  spoken — why 


288  The  Ciecuit 

was  it  that  in  this,  and  one  or  two  other  in- 
stances, and  in  these  alone,  the  exact  words 
which  Christ  employed  are  preserved  in  the 
evangelic  record  ?  It  cannot  be  the  peculiarity 
or  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  or  the  particular 
emphasis  with  which  they  were  spoken,  that 
entitled  them  to  be  selected  and  preserved, 
for  we  can  point  to  many  other  occasions  in 
which,  had  Jesus  used  Aramaic  words,  they 
dhould  have  had  as  good,  indeed  a  better  claim 
to  have  been  preserved.  The  true  explanation 
of  this  matter  seems  to  be  that  it  was  only 
upon  a  few  rare  occasions  that  Jesus  did  em- 
ploy the  old  vernacular  tongue — and  that  he 
ordinarily  spoke  in  Greek.  It  has  recently, 
and  as  I  think  conclusively,  been  established 
by  a  great  variety  of  proof,  that  in  the  days  of 
our  Saviour,  the  Jews  knew  and  spoke  two 
languages  ;  all  the  grown-up  educated  popu- 
lation using  the  Greek  as  well  as  the  Aramaic 
tongue.  The  Greek  predominated  in  the 
schools,  was  employed  almost  exclusively  in 
written  documents  and  by  public  speakers.  It 
was  in  this  language  that  Jesus  addressed  the 
crowds  in  the  courts  of  the  temple  at  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  multitudes  on  the  hill-sides  of 
Galilee.     We  have,    therefore,  in   our   Greek 


Through  Decapous.  289 

New  Testament,  the  very  words  before  us 
which  came  from  the  Hps  of  our  Redeemer — 
more  sacred,  surely,  than  if  they  had  been 
translated  from  the  Aramaic,  however  faithful 
the  rendering.  Assuming  that  Greek  was  the 
language  ordinarily  employed  by  our  Saviour, 
it  would  very  naturally  occur  that  occasionally 
he  reverted  to  the  old  dialect,  and  that  when 
he  die]  so  the  words  that  he  used  should  have 
•been  preserved  and  interpreted.  Thus,  for 
histance,  in  the  house  of  Jairus,  Jesus  was  in 
the  home  of  a  strictly  Jewish  family,  in  which 
the  old  lano-uao-e  would  be  used  in  all  domestic 
intercourse,  the  little  daughter  who  lay  dead 
there  having  not  yet  learned  perhaps  the  new- 
ly imported  tongue.  "  How  beautifully  ac- 
cordant then  with  the  character  of  him  whose 
heart  was  tenderness  itself,  that  as  he  leant 
over  the  lifeless  form  of  the  maiden  and 
breathed  that  life-giving  whisper  into  her  ear, 
it  should  have  been  in  the  loved  and  familiar 
accents  of  the  mother  tongue,  saying,  "  Talitha 
cumi !"  Although  dead  and  insensible  the  mo- 
ment before  the  words  were  uttered,  yet  ere 
the  sound  of  them  passed  away  there  was  life 
and  sensibility  within  her.  Does  not  every 
reader  therefore   perceive  the  thoughtful  ten- 


290  The  Cmcurr 

derness  of  the  act,  and  a  most  sufficient  reason 
why  it  was  in  Hebrew  and  not  in  Greek  that 
our  Lord  now  addressed  her  ?  And  do  we  not 
also  discover  a  cause  why  the  fact  of  iiis  hav- 
ing done  so  should  be  especially  noticed  by 
the  evangelist?  Are  we  not  thus  furnished 
with  a  new  and  affecting  example  of  our  Sa- 
viour's graciousness  ?  And  do  we  not  feel  that 
St.  Mark,  the  most  minutely  descriptive  of  all 
the  evangelists,  deserves  our  gratitude  for  hav- 
ing taken  pains  to  record  it?  Softly  and 
sweetly  must  the  tones  of  that  loving  voice, 
speaking  in  the  language  of  her  childhood, 
have  fallen  upon  the  sleeping  spirit  of  the 
maiden,  and  by  words  of  tenderness,  no  less 
than  words  of  power,  was  she  thus  recalled  to 
life  and  happiness."* 

It  was  perhaps  still  more  natural  that  Jesus, 
in  addressing  the  deaf  stammerer  of  Decapohs, 
should  have  used  an  Aramaic  word.  He  was 
a  rude  mountaineer.  The  vernacular  was  per- 
haps the  only  language  of  which  he  had  any 
knowledge.  At  any  rate,  it  was  the  one  to 
which  he  had  been  the  most  accustomed.  It 
could  have  been  solely  with  a   regard   to   the 

*  See  Roberts'  Disc"ussio7is  on  the  GosikI,  pp.  89,  90. 


TniiouGn  DECAroLis.  291 

man  himself  that  Jesus  employed  the  particular 
term  Ephphatha.  He  meant  him  to  hear  and 
understand  it.  And  it  was  heard,  we  believe, 
and  understood  ;  for  this  was  not  a  case  in 
which  the  faculty  of  hearing  and  speaking  had 
never  existed  or  been  exercised.  So  soon  as 
the  physical  impediments  were  removed,  the 
man  could  speak  as  he  had  spoken  before  the 
loss  of  hearing  had  been  incurred.  When, 
after  all  the  other  signs  of  the  coming  cure  had 
been  given,  the  emphatic  word  was  at  last  pro- 
nounced, how  wise,  how  gracious  was  it  that 
that  word — the  first  heard  after  so  many  years 
— should  have  been  one  of  his  well-known, 
well-loved  mother-tongue  ! 

But  let  us  turn  now  for  a  moment  to  the 
cure  of  the  blind  man  at  Bethsaida.  Here,  too, 
we  may  believe  that  there  was  something  spe- 
cial in  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  man  meant 
to  be  typified  by  the  manner  of  his  cure.  In 
the  taking  of  him  by  the  hand,  the  leading  out 
of  the  town,  the  spitting  upon  his  eyes,  and 
putting  his  hands  upon  him,  JesuS  may  have 
had  the  same  objects  in  view  which  he  had  in 
acting  in  a  similar  manner  with  the  deaf  man 
at  Decapolis,  and  the  man  born  blind  in  Jeru- 
salem ;  but  there  was  a  singularity  that  marks 


292  The  Ciecuit 

this  case  off  from  all  the  others.  It  is  the  only 
instance  of  progress  in  a  cure  by  half  and  half, 
of  an  intermediate  stage  in  the  first  instance 
reached.  Jesus  asked  him  if  he  saw  auo-ht. 
He  looked  up  and  said  that  he  saw  men  as 
trees  walking.  He  saw  them — knew  them  to 
be  men — noticed  and  described  their  motion  ; 
but  they  were  shapeless  to  his  eye — 'looked 
rather  like  trees  than  men.  It  is  this  circum- 
stance which  leads  us  to  believe  that  he  had 
not  been  blind  from  birth. 

To  endow  a  man  born  blind  with  the  full 
powers  of  vision  requires  a  double  miracle — one 
upon  the  bodily  organ,  restoring  to  it  its  pow- 
ers ;  one  upon  the  mind,  conferring  upon  it  the 
faculty  that  in  the  3^ears  of  infancy  a  long  educa- 
tion is  required  to  impart.  A  youth  who  had 
been  blind  from  birth  was  couched  by  Chesel- 
den  ;  but  at  first  and  for  some  time  he  could 
not  distinguish  one  object  from  another,  how- 
ever different  in  shape  or  size.  He  had  to  be 
told  what  the  things  were,  with  whose  forms 
he  had  been  familiar  from  feeling,  and  slowly 
learned  to  recognize  them.  And  slowly  was  it 
that  we  all  in  our  earliest  days  learned  how  to 
use  the  eye,  and  turn  it  into  the  instrument  of 
detecting  the  forms  and  the  magnitudes  and  the 


Through  Decapolis.  253 

distances  of  the  objects  by  which  we  were  sur- 
rounded. But  here — unless,  indeed,  we  beheve 
that  there  was  a  double  miracle — so  soon  as  the 
man  got  the  full  power  of  bodily  vision,  he 
knew  how  to  use  it,  having  learnt  that  art  be- 
fore. It  pleased  the  Saviour,  however,  to  con- 
vey again  its  lost  powers  to  the  organ  of  the 
eye  step  by  step.  There  is  at  first  a  confusion 
of  the  outward  forms  of  things  arising  from 
some  visional  defect.  That  defect  removed,  all 
was  clear  ;  and  the  subject  of  this  miracle  re- 
joiced in  the  exercise  of  a  long  unused  and  al- 
most forgotten  faculty.  It  stands  a  solitary 
kind  of  a  cure  in  the  bodily  healings  of  our 
Lord  ;  but  that  of  which  it  is  the  type  is  by  no 
means  so  rare.  Rather,  the  rare  thing  is 
when  anything  like  full  power  of  spiritual  per- 
ception is  at  once  bestowed.  It  is  but  slowly 
here  that  the  lost  power  comes  back — that  the 
eye  opens  to  a  true  discernment  of  the  things 
of  that  great  spiritual  world  of  which  we  form  a 
part — sees  them  in  their  exact  forms,  in  their 
relative  magnitudes,  distances,  proportions. 
Even  after  the  inward  eye  has  been  purged  of 
all  those  films  which  limit  and  obscure  its  sight, 
a  long,  a  careful,  a  painstaking  education  is  re- 
quired to  retain  it,  as  our  bodily  one  in  infancy 


294        The  Ciecuit  Through  Decapolis. 

was  trained.  Nor  let  us  wonder  if  along  the 
many  stages  of  which  this  education  is  made  up, 
we  often  make  singular  discoveries  of  how  blind 
we  were  before  to  what  afterwards  seems  clear 
as  day,  or  that  the  operations  are  often  painful 
by  which  a  truer,  and  a  deeper,  and  a  wider 
spiritual  discernment  is  attained.  It  is  the 
blessed  office  of  our  Saviour  at  once  to  restore 
to  the  inward  eye  its  power,  and  to  teach  lis 
how  to  use  it.  Into  his  hands  let  us  ever  be 
putting  ourselves ;  and  let  us  quietly  and 
gratefully  submit  to  that  discipline  by  which 
our  training  in  the  exercise  of  all  our  spiritual 
faculties  is  carried  oa. 


XIV. 

THE    APOSTOLIC    CONFESSION    AT    C^SAREA- 
PHILIPPI.* 

IN  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks  the  worship 
of  Pan — their  silvan  deity — was  always  as- 
sociated with  shady  cave  or  woody  grotto. 
The  first  Grecian  settlers  in  Northern  Syria 
lighted  there  upon  a  spot  singularly  suited  for 
such  a  worship — a  cave  at  the  southern  base 
of  Mount  Hermon,  and  at  the  northeastern  ex- 
tremity of  the  valley  of  the  Jordan.  This  cave 
lay  immediately  behind  a  raised  yet  retired 
nook  or  hollow  among  the  hills,  and  immedi- 
ately beneath  a  conical  height  of  more  than 
1000  feet,  rising  between  two  of  those  deep 
ravines  which  run  up  into  the  great  mountain, 
upon  the  summit  of  which  height  there  now 
stand  the  noblest  ruins  that  the  whole  country 
around   exhibits,    equal   in   extent,    if  not   in 

*  Matt.  xvi.  13-19. 


296  The  Atostolic  Confession 

grandeur,  to  those  of  Heidelberg — the  ruins  of 
the  Saracen  Castle  of  Zubeibeh.  Immediately 
beneath  the  entrance  into  this  cave — along  a 
breadth  of  more  than  100  feet — there  gush 
forth  from  among  the  stones  a  thousand  bub 
bling  rills  of  water,  coming  from  some  hidden 
fountain-head,  and  from  their  long  dark  .'?'ib- 
terranean  journey  springing  all  joyously  to- 
gether into  the  light  of  day,  forming  at  once 
by  their  union  a  stream  which  is  one  of  the 
chief  heads  or  sources  of  the  Jordan.  This 
livel}^  and  full-born  stream  does  instantly  a 
stream's  best  eastern  work — clothes  its  birth- 
place with  exuberant  fertility,  shadowing  it 
with  the  foliage  of  the  ilex  and  the  olive  ;  cov- 
ering its  green  swards  with  flowers  of  every 
name,  turning  it  into  such  a  scene  that,  lost  in 
admiration.  Miss  Martineau  declares  that  out 
of  Poussin's  pictures,  she  never  saw  anything 
in  the  least  like  it,  while  Dr.  Stanley  calls  it  a 
Syrian  Tivoli. 

This  chosen  spot  the  first  Grrecian  settlers 
seized  upon  and  consecrated,  making  the  cave 
Pan's  sanctuary,  cutting  niches  for  the  nymphs 
out  of  the  solid  rock  which  forms  the  face  of 
the  mountain  side  ;  wliich  niches — the  statues 
that  once  occupied  them  gone — are  still  to  be 


At  C^saeea  Philitpi.  297 

seen  there  ;  and  called  the  place  Panias,  from 
the  name  of  the  deity  there  worshipped.  The 
Romans  when  they  came  did  not  overtm-n  this 
worship,  but  they  added  a  new  one.  Return- 
ing to  this  beautiful  nook,  from  having  escort- 
ed Caesar  Aus-ustus  to  the  sea,  Herod  the  Great 
erected  a  fine  temple  of  white  marble  to  his 
great  patron.  One  of  his  sons,  Herod  Philip, 
in  whose  territory,  as  Tetrarch  of  Iturea  and 
Trachonitis,  it  was  included,  extended  and  em- 
beUished  the  town  which  had  grown  up  near  the 
old  cavern  sanctuary.  Thinking  to  change  its 
name,  he  called  it  Caesarea  Philippi,  in  honor  of 
the  Roman  Emperor,  with  his  own  name  added, 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  Csesarea  of  the  sea- 
coast.  This  new  name  it  bore  for  a  few  gene- 
rations, but  the  old  one  revived  again,  and  still 
belongs  to  it  under  the  Arabic  form  of  Banias. 
It  was  to  this  Banias,  or  Coesarea-Philippi, 
that  our  Lord  proceeded,  passing  through 
Bethsaida,  and  up  along  the  eastern  banks  of 
the  Jordan.  In  that  circuit  already  described 
he  may  liave  visited  it,  and  the  attractions  of 
the  place  may  have  drawn  him  back,  or  this 
may  have  been  his  first  and  only  visit.  It  can 
scarcely  be  believed  tliat  he  came  into  the  few 
scattered   villages  which  lay  around,  and  the 


298  The  Apostolic  Confession 

remains  of  which  are  still  visible,  without  en- 
tering Caesarea-Philippi  itself.  His  presence 
there,  out  of  Judea,  in  a  district  covered  with 
tokens  of  heathen  worship,  his  standing  before 
that  cave,  his  gazing  upon  those  buildings,  those 
niches,  those  inscriptions,  now  in  ruins  and  de- 
faced, but  then  telling,  in  their  freshness,  of 
idolatries  still  in  living  power,  carries  Jesus  fur- 
ther away  from  Judaism,  and  brings  him  into 
nearer  outward  contact  with  Gentile  worship 
than  any  other  position  in  which  we  see  him  in 
the  Gospel  narrative.  It  were  presumptuous  in 
us,  where  no  clue  is  given,  to  imagine  what  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  Saviour  were  ;  yet 
when  we  find  him  going  so  far  out  of  his  way, 
choosing  this  singular  district  as  the  place  of 
his  temporary  sojourn  after  all  his  public  labors 
in  Galilee  were  over  ;  when  we  reflect  further 
that  now  a  new  stage  of  his  ministry  was  en- 
tered on,  and  that  henceforth  from  teaching 
the  multitudes  he  withdrew,  and  gathering 
his  disciples  around  him  in  private,  began  to 
speak  to  them  as  he  had  never  done  before,  it 
is  impossible  to  refrain  from  cherishing  the  idea 
that,  surrounded  now  by  the  emblems  of  vari- 
ous faiths  and  worships,  types  of  the  motley 
forms  of  superstition  that  had  spread  all  over 


At  Cjlsahea  Philippi.  299 

the  earth,  the  thoughts  of  the  Redeemer  took 
within  their  wide  embrace  that  world  whose 
faith  and  worship  he  had  come  to  purify,  and 
that  lie  had,  in  fact,  purposely  chosen,  as  in 
harmony  with  this  epoch  of  his  life,  and  the 
purposes  he  was  about  to  execute,  the  unique, 
secluded,  romantic  district  of  Csesarea-Philippi. 
He  was  wandering  in  one  of  its  lonely  roads 
with  his  disciples,  his  sole  companions,  when  he 
left  them  for  a  little  while  to  engage  in  solitary 
prayer,*  to  commit  himself  and  his  great  work, 
as  it  w^as  passing  into  a  new  stage,  to  his  Fa- 
ther in  heaven.  On  rejoining  them,  he  put 
to  them  the  question,  "Whom  do  men  say 
that  I  the  Son  of  man  am?"  He  knew  it 
already,  but  for  a  further  purpose  he  would  fain 
have  from  their  lips  what  the  gross  result  of 
those  two  years'  toil  and  teaching  was — what 
the  ideas  were  about  himself,  his  person,  char- 
acter, and  office,  which  his  fellow-countrymen 
now  generally  entertained.  They  told  him — 
more  than  one  of  them  taking  part  in  the  reply 
• — that  some  said  that  he  was  John  the  Baptist ; 
some  that  he  was  Elias  ;  some  Jeremiah ; 
some,  without  determining  which,  that  he  was 

*  Luke  ix.  18. 


300  The  Apostolic  Confession 

one  of  the  prophets.  His  own  hnmediate  fol- 
lowers may  have  got  somewhat  farther  in  their 
conceptions.  Listening  to  and  beheving  in, 
though  not  fully  understanding,  the  testimony 
of  the  Baptist,  Andrew  might  say  to  his  own 
brother  Simon,  "We  have  found  the  Messias, 
which  is,  being  interpreted,  the  Christ ;"  and 
Nathanael,  remembering  what  the  voice  from 
heaven  at  the  baptism  had  been  reported  as 
declaring,  might  exclaim,  "  Rabbi,  thou  art  the 
Son  of  God:  thou  art  the  King  of  Israel." 
Here  and  there,  by  dumb  and  blind  men,  and 
Syro-Phoenician  women,  he  might  be  hailed  as 
the  Son  of  David,  or  the  Son  of  God.  On  the 
first  impulse  of  their  wonder  at  all  being  mir- 
aculously fed,  five  thousand  men  might  be 
ready  in  the  moment  to  say  of  him,  that  he 
was  the  prophet  that  shoul'd  come  into  the 
world.  But  these  were  the  exceptions,  excep- 
tions so  rare,  that  they  seemed  not  to  his  disci- 
ples worthy  of  account.  Amid  all  the  variety 
of  impressions  made  upon  them  by  the  dis- 
courses and  works  of  our  Lord,  the  great  mass 
of  the  people  in  Judea  and  in  Galilee  regarded 
Jesus  as  the  Messiah's  forerunner,  or  one  of 
his  heralds,  not  as  the  Messiah  himself.  It  was 
the  popular  belief  of  tlie  period,  that  prior  to 


At  C^sakea  Philippi.  301 

the  Messiah's  advent  one  or  other  of  the  pro- 
phets was  to  rise  again  from  the  dead.  This 
Jesus  might  be  he.  The  Pharisees  had  not 
succeeded  in  shaking  the  pubhc  confidence  in 
hhn  as  a  pure  and  holy  man,  well  worthy  to  be 
counted  as  a  prophet.  But  they  had  prevailed 
in  scattering  the  first  impressions  that  the  Bap- 
tist's ministry  and  his  own  word  and  deeds  had 
created,  that  he  indeed  was.  the  Christ.  And 
now  from  the  hps  of  his  own  followers  Jesus 
hears  what  was  so  well  fitted  to  try  their  faith 
and  their  Master's  patience,  that  scarcely  any- 
where over  all  the  land  was  there  any  recogni- 
tion of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus. 

On  getting  their  answer,  no  word  of  reproach 
or  complaint  escapes  the  Saviour's  lips.  It  was 
not  indeed  on  his  own  account,  it  was  on  theirs, 
that  his  first  question  had  been  put.  He  fol- 
lows it  with  the  second  and  more  pointed  one  : 
"  But  whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?"  Peter,  the 
ever-ready  answerer,  replies,  "  Thou  art  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God."  Peter  had 
believed,  from  the  beginning  of  his  connexion 
with  him,  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ  ;  a  faith 
which  had  the  great  and  acknowledged  author- 
ity of  the  Baptist  to  rest  on,  and  which  was 
borne  up  by  the  hope  that  the  whole  nation 


302  The  Atostolic  Confession 

would  speedily  accept  him  as  such.  But  in  the 
Baptist's  death,  that  authority  has  been  vio- ' 
lently  shaken,  and  the  outward  and  expected 
support  has  utterly  given  way.  Many  of  the 
Lord's  disciples  have  forsaken  him,  and  looking 
all  around,  Peter  can  find  few  now  who  so  be- 
lieve. Yet,  amid  all  the  prevailing  unbelief  in 
and  rejection  of  his  Master,  Peter's  faith  has 
been  gaining  and  not  losing  strength.  Like 
the  inhabitants  of  Sychar,  he  believed  not  be- 
cause of  what  any  one  had  told  him,  but  upon 
the  ground  of  what  he  himself  had  seen  and 
heard  and  known  of  Jesus.  "  Thou  art  the 
Christ:^  Such  the  Baptist  said  thou  wert — 
such,  though  thou  hast  never  expressly  put 
forth  the  claim— such  thy  words  and  works 
have  been  ever  asserting  thee  to  be — and  such 
thou  truly  art.  Thus  it  is  that  in  his  good  con- 
fession Peter  suffers  not  the  fickle  faith  and  low 
conceptions  of  the  multitude  to  affect  him. 
Though  he  and  his  few  companions  stand  alone, 
with  the  whole  community  against  them,  for 
himself  and  for  them  he  will  speak  out  and 
say,  "Thou  art" — not  any  one  of  those  pro- 
phets, however  honorable  the  name  he  bears — 
'*  Thou  art  the  very  Christ  himself — the  Mes- 
siah promised  to  our  fathers." 


At  C^sarea  Philippi.  303 

But  still  another  step,  in  taking  which  Peter 
not  only  confronts  the  existing  state  of  popular 
belief  as  to  who  Jesus  is,  but  he  goes  far  on  in 
advance  of  the  existing  Jewish  faith  as  to  who 
and  what  the  Messiah  was  to  be.  "Thou  art 
the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  hving  God."  We 
know  from  suJQ&cient  testimony  that  the  Jews 
universally  imagined  that  their  Messiah  was  to 
be  but  a  man — distinguished  for  his  virtues  and 
exalted  in  his  office,  but  still  a  man.  There 
has  dawned  on  Peter's  mind  the  idea  that 
Jesus  the  Christ  is  something  more — something 
higher.  The  voice  from  heaven  had  called  him 
the  Son  of  God  ;  Satan  and  his  host  had  taken 
up  and  repeated  the  epithet.  What  that  title 
fully  meant  we  may  not,  cannot,  think  that 
Peter  now,  or  till  long  afterwards,  understood  ; 
but  that  it  indicated  some  mysterious  indwell- 
ing of  the  Divinity — some  mysterious  link  be- 
tween Jesus  and  the  Father  which  raised  him 
high  above  the  level  of  our  ordinary  humanity, 
even  when  endowed  with  all  prophetic  gifts — 
he  was  beginning  to  comprehend.  Obscure 
though  his  conceptions  were,  there  stood  em- 
bodied in  his  great  confession  a  testimony  to 
the  mingled  humanity  and  divinity  of  Jesus. 
In  the  faith  which  thus  expressed  itself  Jesus 


304  The  Apostolic  Confession 

saw  the  germ  of  all  that  living  faith  by  which 
true  believers  of  every  age  were  to  be  animated 
— that  faith  the  cherishing  of  which  within  its 
bosom  was  to  form  the  very  life  and  strength 
of  the  community,  the  Church,  which  he  was  to 
gather  out  from  among  the  nations — the  fruit 
of  God's  own  work  within  human  souls.  See- 
ing this,  and  being  so  far  satisfied — rejoicing  in 
the  assurance  that  whatever  other  men  might 
think  or  say  of  him,  there  were  even  now  some 
human  spirits  within  which  he  had  got  a  hold, 
that  nothing  could  shake,  against  which  nothing 
would  prevail — he  turns  to  Peter  and  he  says, 
"  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jona,"  Simon 
Bar-jona ! — the  very  way  in  which  he  named 
him  preparing  us  for  words  of  weighty  import 
being  about  to  be  addressed  to  him.  Simon 
Bar-jona,  blessed  art  thou !  I  know  not  if 
Jesus  Christ  ever  pronounced  such  a  special 
individual  blessing  on  any  other  single  man  ; 
and  when  we  hear  one  of  our  race  called  bless- 
ed by  him  who  knows  so  well  wherein  the  best 
and  highest  happiness  of  our  nature  consists, 
our  ear  opens  wide  to  catch  the  reason  given 
for  such  a  benediction  being  pronounced. 
"  Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jona,  for  flesh 
and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but 


At  C^sarea  Philippi.  305 

my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  Thhie  own 
eye  hath  not  seen  it,  thine  own  ear  hath  not 
heard  it — it  hath  not  come  to  thee  by  any  ordi- 
nary channel  from  without — it  is  not  due  alone 
to  an  exercise  of  thine  own  spirit  within.  Faint 
though  the  light  be  that  has  gleamed  in  upon 
th}^  soul,  and  lighted  up  thy  faith — faint  as  the 
feeblest  glimmer  of  the  morn — it  is  a  light  from 
heaven,  a  dawn  giving  promise  of  a  brigiit  and 
cloudless  day.  It  hath  come  to  thee  as  a  rev- 
elation from  the  great  Father  of  Spirits  to  thy 
spirit,  Simon  Bar-jona  ;  and  therefore  a  blessed 
man  art  tjiou !  And  blessed  still  in  the  Sa- 
viour's judgment — blessed  beyond  all  that  this 
world  has  in  it  of  blessedness  to  bestow— is  he 
upon  whose  darkened  mind  and  heart  the  faint- 
est rays  of  that  same  heavenly  light  have  shone 
— the  God  who  commanded  the  light  to  shine 
out  of  the  darkness,  shining  in  upon  his  soul, 
giving  him  the  light  of  the  true  knowledge  of 
God  in  Christ  his  Saviour ! 

"  And  I  say  also  unto  thee  " — Thou  hast 
said  to  me,  "Thou  art  the  Christ,"  and  hast 
shown  that  thou  knowest  what  is  the  true 
meaning  of  the  word,  so  now  say  I  unto  thee, 
"  Thou  art  Peter  ;"  the  name  of  my  own  giv- 
ing, the  fitness  of  whose  application   to   thee 


306  The  Apostolic  Confession 

thou  art  even  now  justifying  in  thy  prompt 
and  bold  confession,  in  thy  full  and  resolute 
faith,  in  thy  firm  and  immoveable  adhesion  to 
me,  despite  of  all  that  men  think  and  say  of 
me.  Thou  art  a  true  Petros — a  living  stone 
built  upon  me,  the  true  Petra,  the  living  and 
eternal  rock — the  only  sure  foundation  in  which 
you  and  all  may  build  their  trust  and  hopes. 
And  upon  thee,  as  such  a  stone  resting  on  such 
a  rock,  as  having  so  genuine  and  strong  a  faith 
in  me  as  Son  of  Man  and  Son  of  God,  I  will 
build  my  Church.  Because  of  this  thine  early, 
full,  and  heaven-implanted  faith,  thou  shalt  be 
honored  as  one  of  the  first  foundation-stones 
on  which  my  Church  shall  be  erected.  That 
Church  shall  be  the  congregation  of  men  who 
share  thy  faith — who  all  are  Peters  like  thj^self 
— all  living  stones  built  upon  me  as  the  chief 
corner-stone  ;  and  in  a  sense,  too,  built  upon 
thee  ;  on  prophets  and  apostles  as  laid  by  me 
and  on  me,  to  form  the  basis  of  the  great  spir- 
itual edifice — the  Temple  of  the  Church. 

But  if  the  Church  was  to  consist  of  those  who 
believed  in  Jesus  as  Peter  did,  where  was  the 
promise  that  it  should  number  many  within  its 
embrace  ?  '  What  the  security  that  it  should 
have  any  firm   or   lasting  hold  ?     Was   Josus 


At  C^sarea  Philippi.  307 

not  at  this  moment  a  wanderer — despised  and 
rejected — driven  forth  from  among  his  own — 
surrounded  in  this  place  of  his  vokmtary  exile 
among  the  Gentiles  by  a  few  poor  fishermen  ? 
Where  was  the  earthly  hope  that  the  circle  of 
true  believers  in  him  should  widen  ?  What 
the  prospect  that  if  it  did,  it  could  hold  its 
ground  agaiiust  ah  the  gathered  enmity  that 
was  rising  to  pour  itself  out  against  it  ?  Calmly 
out  of  the  midst  of  all  these  unpropitious  and 
unpromising  appearances,  the  words  issue  from 
the  lips  of  Jesus,  "  I  wih  build  my  church, 
and  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against 
it."  The  history  of  eighteen  centuries  has  con- 
firmed the  truth  of  the  saying.  So  long  has 
this  society  of  Christian  men  existed  ;  and 
though  it  has  done  much  to  provoke  hostility, 
and  been  often  very  unmindful  of  the  spirit  and 
will  of  him  whose  name  it  bears,  yet  all  that 
power  and  policy,  the  wiliest  intrigues  and  the 
fiercest  persecution  could  do  against  it,  have 
been  done  in  vain. 

This  is  the  first  occasion  on  which  Jesus  used 
that  word — the  Church  ;  and  he  named  it  in  his 
own  lifetime  but  once  again.  He  did  every- 
thing to  lay  the  true  and  only  foundation  of 
that  Church ;  but  he  did  almost  nothing  with 


808  The  Apostolic  Confession 

Lis  own  hand  to  direct  or  organize  it.  Apart 
(rom  liis  selecting  twelve  men  to  be  his  personal 
associates,  his  institution  of  the  office  of  the 
apostolate,  which  there  are  but  few  who  regard 
as  an  integral  and  perpetual  part  of  the  Church's 
organization — apart  from  that,  and  his  appoint- 
ment of  the  two  sacraments,  Jesus  may  be  said 
to  have  done  nothing  towards  the  incorporation 
of  those  attached  to  him  into  an  external  insti- 
tute. Even  here,  when  he  goes  to  address  a 
few  words  of  encouragement  to  Peter,  upon 
whom  so  important  services  in  this  department 
were  to  devolve,  he  speaks  not  of  the  present 
but  of  the  future  : — "  I  will  give  unto  thee  the 
keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  When  that 
time  comes  at  which,  on  the  great  day  of  Pente- 
cost, the  first  admissions  into  my  Church  by  bap- 
tism shall  take  place,  then  know  that  the  keys 
of  my  kingdom  are  in  thine  hand,  and  that  thou 
may  est  use  them  in  the  full  assurance  that  thou 
art  not  acting  without  a  due  warrant.  Keys 
are  the  badges  of  authority  and  power  and 
trust,  bestowed  as  the  symbols  of  the  office  on 
ministers  or  ambassadors,  secretaries  or  treas- 
urers of  kingdoms  ;  on  whom  the  duty  lies  of 
admitting  to,  or  excluding  from,  the  privileges 
and  benefits  of  the  commonwealth,  disposing  or 


At  CiESAREA  Philippi.  309 

withdrawing  the  royal  bounties  and  favor. 
Such  ke3^s— in  a  manner  appropriate  to  the 
kind  of  commonwealth  the  Church  is — Jesus 
here  commits  to  Peter,  as  one  of  the  first  and 
greatest  of  its  of&ce-bearers.  In  the  use  of  any 
such  authority  and  power  as  had  been  given 
him  within  the  Churcli — in  admitting  to  or  ex- 
cluding from  its  privileges — in  taking  his  part 
in  the  baptism  of  the  three  thousand  on  the  day 
of  Pentecost — in  condemning  Ananias  and  Sap- 
phira — in  censuring  Simon  Magus— hi  opening 
the  door  to  take  in  the  Gentile  converts,  and 
presiding  at  the  baptisms  in  the  household  of 
Cornelius — Peter  might  be  weighed  down  by 
the  sense  of  the  feebleness  of  the  instrument 
he  was  using,  the  smallness  of  the  effects  that 
it  could  produce.  To  comfort  and  encourage 
him  in  the  use  of  the  keys  when  they  came  to 
be  employed  by  him,  Jesus  adds,  "Whatsoever 
thou  shalt  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in 
heaven,  and  whatsoever  thou  vshalt  loose  on 
earth  shall  be  loosed  in  heaven."  Act  but  in 
the  right  spirit — follow  out  the  directions  given 
— let  the  law  of  truth  and  love  but  regulate 
your  doings — and  you  may  rest  assured  that 
doings  of  yours  on  earth  shall  be  approved  and 
ratified  in  heaven.     So  far,  and  no  farther,  as 


310  The  Apostolic  Confession 

it  seems  to  us,  do  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  as 
addressed  to  Peter,  go.  You  are  aware  that 
it  is  upon  these  words — and  upon  them  ahnost 
exclusively,  for  there  is  no  other  passage  of 
anything  of  a  hke  import  in  the  evangehc  nar- 
rative— the  Church  of  Rome  claims  for  St.  Pe- 
ter and  his  alleged  successors  in  the  See  of 
Rome  a  primacy  or  popedom  over  the  univer- 
sal Church  of  Christ.  Upon  this  claim,  so  fai* 
as  it  is  attempted  to  be  erected  upon  this  pas* 
sage,  I  have  to  remark  : 

1.  It  is  singular  that  of  the  three  Evangel- 
ists who  have  recorded  our  Lord's  question  to 
the  apostles,  and  St.  Peter's  reply,  St.  Matthew 
is  the  only  on-e  who  has  added  that  which  Jesus 
said  to  hhn  after  his  good  confession  had  been 
made.  Had  our  Lord's  object  in  putting  the 
question  been  to  elicit  the  confession  in  order 
thereupon  to  confer  certain  peculiar  honors 
and  privileges  upon  St.  Peter  above  all  the 
other  twelve,  would  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke 
have  stopped  short  as  they  do  at  the  confession, 
and  said  not  a  word  about  Peter  and  the  rock 
— the  keys  and  the  kingdom  ?  It  is  quite  true 
that  in  many  a  narrative  two  of  the  Evangelists 
omit  what  the  third  has  recorded  ;  but  it  is 
never  true,  as  it  would  be  true  here  if  the  Ro- 


At    CiESAREA    PlIlLIPPI.  311 

man  Catholic  interpretation  of  the  passage  be 
adopted,  that  all  three  give  the  initial  or  intro- 
ductory part  of  a  narrative,  but  that  one  alone 
supphes  that  in  which  the  main  scope  and  ob- 
ject of  the  whole  consists. 

2.  The  claim  for  a  primacy  of  authority  over 
the  other  apostles,  put  forward  on  behalf  of  St 
Peter,  rests  on  the  assumption  that  he,  and  h^ 
exclusively,  is  the  rock  upon  which  the  Church 
is  said  to  rest.     I  will  only  say  that  as  a  mere 
matter  of  exegesis — i.e.,  of  interpretation    of 
words— it  is  extremely  difficult  to  say  precisely 
what   the  rock   was  to  which   Christ  alluded. 
From  the  beginning,  from  Jerome  and  Origen 
down  to    our   own  times,  there  has  been  the 
greatest  diversity  of  opinion.     Did  Jesus  mean 
to    say    that   Peter   himself— individually  and 
pecuharly — was  the  rock  ?  or  was  it  the  con- 
fession that  he  had  just  made,  or  was  it  the 
faith  to  which  he  had  given  expression,  or  was 
Jesus  pointing  to  himself  when  he  spoke  of  this 
rock,  as  he  did  elsewhere  when  he  spake  of 
this  temple — this  shrine — in  reference  to  him- 
self?     I  have  already  offered  the  explanation 
that  appears  to  me  the  most  simple  and  natu- 
ral, as  flowing  not  so  much  out  of  a  critical  ex- 
amination of  the  words  as  out  of  a  considera- 


312  The  Apostolic  Confession 

tion  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  and  condi- 
tions under  which  the  words  were  spoken ;  but 
I  cannot  say  that  I  have  offered  that  explana- 
tion without  considerable  hesitation — a  hesita- 
tion mainly  arising  from  the  fact  which  does 
not  appear  in  our  English  version,  that  Jesus 
used  two  different  words — Pefros  and  Fetra — in 
speaking  as  he  did  to  the  Apostle,  A  claim  which 
rests  upon  so  ambiguous  a  declaration  can 
scarcely  be  regarded  as  entitled  to  our  support. 

3.  Whatever  ambiguity  there  may  be  now 
to  us,  there  could  have  been  no  such  ambiguity 
in  the  words  of  Christ  to  those  who  heard  them. 
They  must  have  known  whether  or  not  Jesus 
meant  to  designate  Peter  as  the  rock — to  ele- 
vate him  to  a  peculiar  and  exalted  position 
above  his  brethren.  And  yet  we  find  that 
three  times  after  this  the  dispute  arises  among 
them  which  should  be  the  greatest — a  dispute 
which  never  could  have  arisen  had  Jesus  al- 
ready openly  and  distinctly  assigned  the  pri- 
macy to  St.  Peter — and  a  dispute,  we  may  add, 
which  never  would  have  been  settled  as  Jesus 
in  each  case  settled  it,  had  any  such  primacy 
been  ever  intended  to  be  conveyed  by  him. 

4.  Even  admitting  that  all  that  is  said  here 
was   said  personally  and  peculiarly  of  Peter, 


At  C^sarea  Philippi.  313 

where  is  the  warrant  to  extend  it  to  his  suc- 
cessors? If  his  associates — his  fellow- apostles 
— be  excluded,  how  can  his  successors  be  em- 
braced? It  is  ingeniously  said  here  by  Ro- 
manists that  if  St.  Peter  be  the  foundation  of 
the  Church,  then  as  that  foundation  must  abide, 
there  ever  must  be  one  to  take  his  place  and 
keep  up  as  it  were  the  continuity  of  the  basis 
of  the  building.  But  this  is  to  have,  not  one 
stone  as  the  foundation,  but  a  series  of  stones 
laid  alongside  or  upon  one  another,  and  where 
is  there  a  hint  of  such  a  thing  ? 

Fifthly,  and  chiefly.  All  that  is  said  here  to 
Peter  was  said  twice  afterwards  by  Christ  to 
all  the  twelve  and  to  all  the  Church.  You 
have  but  to  turn  to  the  18th  chapter  of  St. 
Matthew,  and  read  there  from  the  18th  to  the 
19th  verse,  and  to  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  and 
read  there  in  the  20th  chapter,  from  the  19th 
to  the  23d  verse,  to  be  fully  satisfied  that,  put 
what  interpretation  you  may  upon  the  words 
spoken  at  Caesarea-Philippi  to  St.  Peter,  they 
conveyed  to  him  no  power  or  privilege  beyond 
that  which  Jesus  conferred  upon  the  entire 
college  of  the  apostles,  and  in  its  collective 
capacity  upon  the  Church,* 

*  See  The  Forty  Days  after  our  Lord's  Resurrection,  pp.  103-114. 


XVe 

THE    REBUKE    OF   SAINT    PETER.* 

JESUS  had  tested  the  faith  of  the  Apostles. 
Their  reply  to  his  pointed  interrogation, 
"But  whom  say  ye  that  I  am?"  was  so  far 
satisfactory.  They  had  not  been  influenced 
either  by  the  hostility  of  the  Pharisees  or  the 
low  and  unworthy  imaginations  of  the  people. 
They  were  ready  to  acknowledge  the  Messiah- 
ship  of  their  Master,  such  as  they  understood 
it  to  be,  and  had  risen  even  to  some  dim  con- 
ception of  his  divinity.  They  were  all  ready 
to  adopt  the  declaration  of  their  spokesman  as 
the  expression  of  their  faith,  "Thou  art  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God." 

But  in  this  faith  of  theirs  there  was  one  great 
and  fatal  defect.  Neither  they,  nor  any  of 
their  countrymen  of  that  age,  had  associated 

*  Matt.  xvl.  21-28  ;  Mark  viii.  31-38  ;  ix.  1  ;  Luke  ix.  22-27. 


The  Rebuke  op  St.  Peter.  315 

with  the  advent  of  their  Messiah  any  idea  of 
humiUation,    rejection,    suffering    unto    death. 
Obscure  he  might  be  in  his  first  appearances, 
and  difacult  of  recognition  ;  obstacles  of  vari- 
ous kinds  raight  be  thrown  in  his  path,  over 
which  he  might  have  laboriously  to  climb  ;  but 
sooner  or  later  the  discovery  of  who  and  what 
he  was  would  burst  upon  the  people,  and  by 
general    acclaim  he  would  be    exalted  to    his 
destined   lordship    over    Israel.     One,    coming 
unto  his  own,   and  by  his  own  received  not ; 
asking  not,  and  getting  not,  any   honor  from 
men  ;  walking  in  lowhness  all  his  days  ;  a  man 
of  many  and  deeply-hidden    griefs,  misunder- 
stood by  the  great  mass  of  the  people,  despised 
and  rejected  by  their  rulers,  taken,  at  last,  to 
be  judged  and  condemned  as  a  deceiver  of  the 
people,     a    vilifier    of    Moses,    a    blasphemer 
against  Grod;  crucified,  at  last,  as  a  malefactor — 
it  had  never  entered  into  their  thoughts  that 
such  a  one  could  be  their  Messiah.     He  might 
suff'cr  somewhat,  perhaps,  at  the  hands  of  his 
own  and  Israel's  enemies  ;  possibly  he  might 
have  to  submit  to  death,  the  common  lot  of 
all  men  ;  but  that  he  should  suifer  at  the  hands 
of  the  very  people  over  whom  he  came  to  reign, 
and  that  by  their  hands  he  should  be  put  to 


816  The  Rebuke 

death — no  throne  erected,  and  no  kingdom 
won — this  was  not  only  aUen  from,  it  was  ut- 
terly contradictory  to,  their  conceptions  and 
their  belief.  Yet  all  this  was  true  :  and  from 
their  earlier  and  false  ideas  the  disciples  had  to 
be  weaned. 

Jesus  did  this  gradually.  At  first,  during  all 
his  previous  converse  with  them  while  engaged 
in  his  pubHc  labors  in  Judea  and  Gralilee,  he 
had  carefully  abstained  from  saying  anything 
about  his  approaching  sufferings  and  death. 
Not  that  these  were  either  unforeseen  or  for- 
gotten by  him.  When  alone  in  the  midnight 
interview  with  Nicodemus,  he  could  speak 
plainly  of  his  being  lifted  up  upon  the  cross  as 
the  brazen  serpent  had  been  upon  the  pole  in 
the  wilderness,  that  whosoever  looked  upon 
him  believingly  might  be  saved.  To  the  peo- 
ple of  Judea  and  Galilee  he  could  drop  hints, 
which,  however  obscure  to  his  hearers,  tell  us 
of  a  full  knowledge  and  foresight  on  his  part 
of  all  that  awaited  him.  He  could  point  to  his 
body  as  to  the  temple,  which,  though  destroyed, 
in  three  days  he  should  raise  up  again.  He 
could  tell  his  Galilean  audience  the  sign  that 
was  to  be  given  to  that  generation — that  as 
Jonah  was  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 


Of  St.  Petek.  317 

whale's  belly,  the  Son  of  man  should  be  three 
days  and  three  nights  m  the  heart  of  the  earth. 
But  never  till  now,  in  any  of  his  private  con- 
versations with  his  disciples,  had  he  alluded  to 
this  topic.  He  had  allowed  them  to  take  ofif 
the  natural  and  full  impression  which  his  teach- 
ing and  miracle-working,  and  the  whole  tenor 
of  his  life  and  conversation,  was  fitted  to  make 
upon  open,  honest,  devout-minded  men.  Their 
knowledge  of  him,  their  faith  in  him,  he  had 
left  to  grow,  till  now — as  represented  in  the 
confession  of  St.  Peter — it  seemed  strong 
enough  to  bear  some  pressure.  They  might 
now  be  told  what  it  had  been  out  of  time  to 
tell  them  earlier.  And  if  they  were  to  be  told 
at  all  beforehand  of  the  dark  and  tragic  close, 
it  would  seem  to  be  the  very  best  and  most  fit- 
ting occasion  to  begin,  at  least,  to  make  the 
disclosure  to  them  now,  when  our  Lord  himself, 
ceasing  from  his  public  ministry,  had  sought 
these  few  days'  quiet  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Csesarea-Philippi,  that  his  own  thoughts  might 
be  turned  to  all  that  awaited  him  when  he 
went  up  to  Jerusalem.  "From that  time  forth 
began  Jesus  to  show  unto  his  disciples  how  he 
must  go  unto  Jerusalem,  and  suffer  many 
things  of  the  elders  and  chief  priests  and  scribeSj 


318  The  Eebuke 

and  be  killed,  and  be  raised  again  the  third 
day,"  A  few  days  after  this,  as  they  descended 
from  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  Jesus 
charged  Peter  and  James  and  John,  saying, 
"  Tell  the  vision  to  no  man  till  the  Son  of  man 
be  risen  from  the  dead."  A  few  days  later, 
while  they  were  still  in  Gi-alilee,  passing  through 
it  so  privately  that  it  evidenced  a  desire  that 
no  man  should  know  it,*  Jesus  said  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "  Let  these  sayings  sink  down  into  your 
hearts,  for  the  Son  of  man  shall  be  betrayed 
into  the  hands  of  men,  and  they  shall  kill  him, 
and  the  third  day  he  shall  be  raised  again." 

After  the  raisins;  of  Lazarus  there  was  a  brief 
retreat  to  Perosa,  till  the  time  of  the  last  Pass- 
over drew  on.  There  was  something  very  pe- 
culiar in  the  whole  manner  and  bearing  of  our 
Lord  when,  leaving  this  retreat,  he  set  forth  on 
his  final  journey  to  Jerusalem.  He  stepped 
forth  before  his  disciples,  "  and  they  were 
amazed,  and  as  they  followed  they  were  afraid." 
It  was  while  they  were  on  the  way  thus  going 
up  to  Jerusalem  that  he  took  the  twelve  apart, 
and  said  to  them,  "  Behold,  we  go  up  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  all  things  that  are  written  by  the 

*  Mark  ix.  30. 


Of  St.  Peteb.  319 

prophets  concerning  the  Son  of  man  shall  be 
accomplished  ;  for  he  shall  be  betrayed  unto 
the  chief  priests  and  unto  the  scribes,  and  they 
shall  condemn  him  to  death,  and  shall  deliver 
him  to  the  Gentiles,  and  they  shall  mock,  and 
shall  scourge,  and  shall  spit  upon,  and  shall  cru- 
cify him,  and  the  third  day  he  shall  rise  again,"* 
It  tlms  appears  that  four  times  at  least  before 
the  event — thrice  in  Gralilee  and  once  in  Perasa 
— Jesus  foretold  with  growing  minuteness  of 
detail  his  passion  and  death  ;  specifying  the 
place — Jerusalem  5  the  time — the  approaching 
Passover ;  the  agents — the  chief  priests,  scribes, 
and  Gentiles  ;  the  course  of  procedure — his  be- 
trayal into  the  hands  of  the  Jewish  authorities, 
his  delivery  by  them  into  the  hands  of  the  Gen- 
tiles; the  manner  of  his  death — crucifixion  under 
a  judicial  sentence  ;  some  of  the  accompanying 
circumstances — the  scourging,  the  mocking,  the 
spitting.  Any  one  placed  in  the  position  of 
Jesus — seeing  the  rising  tide  of  bitter  enmity, 
and  knowing  the  goal  at  which  it  aimed — might 
have  conjectured  that  nothing  short  of  the  death 
of  their  victim  would  appease  the  wrath  of  his 
enemies.      But    what    mere    human   foresight 

*Matt,  XX.  17-19  ;    Mark  x.  32-34  ;    Luke  xviii.  31-34, 


320  The  Kebuke 

could  have  foretold,  at  Caesarea-Philippi,  that, 
Herod  would  not  anticipate  sacerdotal  party, 
and  seize  upon  Jesus  on  his  way  through  Gali- 
lee, and  crown  the  Baptist's  murder  by  that  of 
his  successor?  What  mere  human  foresight 
could  have  foretold  that  after  so  many  pre- 
vious attempts  and  failures,  the  one  at  the  next 
Passover  season  would  succeed  ;  that  Jesus 
would  not  perish,  as  Stephen  did,  in  a  tumultu- 
ous outbreak  ;  that  all  the  formalities  of  a  trial 
and  condemnation  would  be  gone  through,  and 
death  by  crucifixion  be  the  result  ?  Nor  will  it 
help  to  furnish  us  with  any  natural  explanation 
of  these  foretellings  of  his  sufferings  and  death 
by  Jesus,  to  say  that  he  gathered  them  from 
the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament,  with  which 
we  know  him  to  have  been  familiar,  and  to 
which,  indeed,  even  in  these  foretellings,  he 
pointed  ;  for,  much  as  those  prophecies  did 
convey,  they  fell  far  short  of  that  particularity 
which  characterizes  the  sayings  of  our  Lord. 
Receiving  the  account  of  the  evangehsts  as 
genuine  and  true,  we  are  shut  up  to  the 
conclusion  that  in  regard  to  his  passion  and 
death  Jesus  manifested  beforehand  a  fore- 
knowledge proper  only  to  him  who  knows 
all  ends  from  their  beginnings  ;  and  that  still 


Of  St.  Peter.  321 

more  was  this  the  case  as  to  his  resurrection, 
which  he  predicted  still  oftener,  and  could  not 
have  predicted  in  plainer  or  less  ambiguous 
terms. 

It  may  for  a  moment  appear  strange  that  the 
disciples  were  so  taken  by  surprise  when  the 
death  and  the  resurrection  of  their  Master  ac- 
tually took  place.  How  could  this  be,  we  are 
apt  to  ask  ourselves,  after  such  distinct  and  un- 
ambiguous declarations  as  those  which  we  have 
quoted  ?  Let  us  remember,  however,  that  the 
same  authority  which  instructs  us  that  these 
predictions  were  uttered,  informs  us  that  they 
were  not  understood  by  those  to  whom  they 
were  in  the  first  instance  addressed.  "  They 
understood  not  the  saying,  and  it  was  hid  from 
them,  and  they  feared  to  ask  him."*  And 
they  kept  that  saying  with  themselves,  ques- 
tioning one  with  another  what  the  rising  from 
the  dead  should  mean."f  The  words  of  Jesus 
were  in  themselves  easy  enough  to  understand  ; 
but  was  it  figuratively  or  hterally  they  were  to 
be  taken?  We  can  scarcely  judge  aright  of 
the  perplexity  into  which  so  unexpected  an  an- 
nouncement must  have  thrown  the   disciples  at 

*  Luke  ix.  45.  f  Mark  ix.  10  • 


322  The  Eebuke 

this  stage  of  their  acquaintance  with  Christ, 
nor  understand  how  natural  it  was  that  they 
should  explain  them  away.  We  so  often  see 
them,  with  other  and  less  difficult  subjects,  tak- 
ing what  he  meant  literally  as  if  it  were  figura- 
tively spoken,  and  what  he  meant  figuratively 
as  if  it  were  to  be  literally  understood — that  it 
takes  the  edge  off  our  wonder  that  in  this  in- 
stance the  disciples  should  have  hesitated  how 
to  take  the  words  that  they  had  heard.  The 
expression,  "rising  from  the  dead,"  the  one 
that  appears  to  have  perplexed  them  the  most, 
appears  to  us  one  of  the  simplest.  Yet,  when 
we  put  ourselves  exactly  in  their  position,  we 
begin  to  see  that  they  had  more  ground  for 
their  perplexity  than  is  at  first  apparent.  A 
raising  from  the  dead  was  what  they  had  them- 
selves witnessed.  In  the  general  resurrection 
of  the  dead  they  believed.  There  was  nothing, 
therefore,  creating  any  difficulty  in  the  way  of 
their  understanding  the  mere  literal  signification 
of  the  phrase — rising  from  the  dead.  But  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus — what  could- it  mean  ?  It 
could  not  be  his  sharing  in  the  general  resur- 
rection of  all  the  dead  that  he  was  speaking  of 
But  was  he  to  die  and  to  rise  and  to  remain 
risen  ?  or  to  die  and  to  rise  and  to  die  again  ? 


Of  St.  Peter.  323 

He  could  raise  others  froni  the  dead,  but  if  he 
were  to  die,  who  was  to  raise  him  ?  Need  we 
be  surprised  if,  with  their  notions  of  who  and 
what  their  Messiah  was  to  be,  the  disciples 
should  at  times  have  believed  that  it  was  of 
some  spiritual  death  and  resurrection — some 
sinking  into  the  grave  and  rising  again  of  his 
cause  and  kingdom — that  Jesus  spoke  ? 

At  first,  indeed,  and  before  any  time  for  re- 
flecting upon  it  is  given,  St.  Peter  seizes  upon 
the  natural  meaning  of  the  words  that  he  had 
heard,  and  interprets  them  generally  as  predict- 
ing suffering  and  death  to  his  Master,  and,  of- 
fended at  the  very  thought  of  a  future  so  differ- 
ent from  the  one  that  they  all  had  anticipated, 
in  the  heat  of  his  surprise  and  indignation, 
buoyed  up,  no  doubt,  by  the  praise  that  had 
just  been  bestowed  upon  him,  he  forgets  him- 
self so  far  as  actually  to  lay  hold  by  arm  or 
garment  of  our  Lord,  and  in  the  spirit  of  a  pat- 
ron, or  protector,  he  begins  to  rebuke  him, 
saying,  "Be  it  far  from  thee,  Lord:  this  shall 
not  be  unto  thee."  Kindliness  in  the  act  and 
speech  ;  a  strong  interest  in  Christ's  mere  per- 
sonal welftire — but  ignorance  and  presumption 
too  ;  forgetfulness  of  the  distance  that  sepa- 
rated him  from  Jesus,  and  a  profound  insensi- 


3  2 J:  The  Rebuke 

bility  to  the  higher  spiritual  designs  which  the 
sufferings  and  death  of  Jesus  were  to  be  the 
means  of  accompUshing,  Now  let  us  mark  the 
manner  in  which  this  interference  is  regarded 
and  treated  by  Christ.  He  turns  about — he 
looses  himself  from  the  too  familiar  hold — he 
looks  on  his  disciples  as  if  craving  their  special 
notice  of  what  he  was  about  to  say  and  do — 
and  by  that  look  having  engaged  their  fixed 
regard,  he  says  to  Peter,  *'  Get  thee  behind  me, 
Satan  ;  thou  art  an  offence  to  me."  What  was 
the  secret  of  the  quickness,  the  sharpness,  the 
stern  severity  of  this  rebuke  ?  Why  was  it 
that,  for  the  moment,  the  Apostle  disappeared 
as  it  were  from  the  Saviour's  view,  and  Satan, 
the  arch-tempter,  took  his  place?  Why  was  it 
that  the  very  word  which  our  Lord  had  applied 
to  Satan  in  the  last  and  greatest  of  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  wilderness,  is  here  used  again,  as  if 
the  great  tempter  had  reappeared  and  renewed 
his  solicitation?  It  was  because  he  found  the 
feet  of  Peter  had  actually  stepped  upon  the 
very  ground  that  Satan,  in  his  great  temptation 
of  our  Saviour,  had  occupied.  Take  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world — such  had  been  the 
bribe  held  out — take  them  now — save  thyself 
all  the  toil,  the  agony — let  the  cup  pass  from 


Or  St.  Peter.  325 

thee— step  into  the  throne  without  touching  or 
tasting  the  bitterness  of  the  cross.  Promptly, 
indignantly,  was  this  temptation  repelled  in  the 
wilderness  ;  and  when  it  reappears  in  the  lan- 
guage of  his  Apostle,  "Be  it  far  from  thee: 
this  shall  not  be  unto  thee  "—when  once  again 
he  is  tempted  to  shrink  from  the  sufferings  and 
the  death  in  store  for  him— as  promptly  and 
as  indignantly  is  it  again  repelled,  Peter  being 
regarded  as  personating  Satan  in  making  it, 
and  addressed  even  as  the  great  tempter  had 

been. 

What  a  difference  between  the  two  sayings, 
uttered  within  a  few  minutes  of  each  other! 
"Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-jona:  for  flesh 
and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  "Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan:  thou  art  an  offence"— or, 
as  the  word  means,  thou  art  a  stumbling-stone, 
a  rock  of  offence — "  unto  me."  Can  it  be  the 
same  man  to  whom  words  of  such  different  im- 
port are  addressed?  Yes,  the  same  man  in 
two  quickly  succeeding  states.  Now  (to  the 
eye  which  seeth  in  secret)  he  appears  as  one 
whose  mind  the  Father  hath  enhghtened,  now 
as  one  whose  heart  Satan  has  filled  and  oc- 
cupied ;  now  the  object  of  praise  and  blesshig, 


326  The  Eebuke 

now  of  censure  and  pungent  rebuke.  And 
does  not  this  changing  Peter,  with  those  two 
opposite  sides  of  his  character  turned  so  rapidly 
to  Christ,  stand  a  type  and  emblem  of  our  weak 
humanity?  of  the  ductile  nature  that  is  in  the 
best  of  the  followers  of  our  Lord  ?  of  the  quick 
transitions  that  so  often  take  place  within  us  ? 
our  souls  now  shone  upon  by  the  light  from 
Heaven,  now  lit  up  with  fires  of  another  kind- 
ling? What  lessons  of  humility  and  charity 
do  such  experiences  in  the  history  of  the  best 
of  men  inculcate ! 

Peter  must  have  been  greatly  surprised  when, 
shaken  off"  by  Jesus,  he  was  spoken  to  as  if  he 
were  the  arch-fiend  himself.  Unconscious  of 
anything  but  kindly  feelings  to  his  Master,  he 
would  be  at  a  loss  at  first  to  know  what  sinful, 
Satanic  element  there  had  been  in  the  senti- 
ments he  had  been  cherishing — the  words  that 
he  had  used.  It  might  at  once  occur  to  him 
that  he  had  been  too  familiar — had  used  too 
much  liberty  with  him  whom  he  had  just  ac- 
knowledged to  be  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the 
living  God.  But  it  could  surely  not  be  simply 
and  solely  because  of  his  being  offended  at  the 
freedom  taken,  that  Jesus  had  spoken  to  him 
as  he  did.     Some  hght  may  have  been  thrown 


Of  St.  Peter.  327 

upon  the  matter,  even  to  Peter's  apprehension 
at  the  time,  by  our  Lord's  own  explanatory 
words  :  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan:  for  thou 
savorcst  not  the  things  that  be  of  God,  but 
the  things  that  be  of  men."  There  were  two 
ways  of  looking  upon  those  sufferings  and 
death,  of  which,  now  for  the  first  time,  Jesus 
had  begun  to  speak — the  selfish,  earthly,  hu- 
man one,  and  the  spiritual,  the  divine.  Peter 
was  thinking  of  them  solely  under  the  one  as- 
pect, thinking  of  them  in  their  bearing  alone 
upon  the  personal  comfort,  the  outward  estate 
and  condition,  of  his  Lord.  He  would  have 
Jesus  avoid  them.  He  himself  would  stand 
between  them  and  his  Master,  and  not  suffer 
them  to  come  upon  him  ;  inflicting,  as  he  im- 
agined they  would  do,  such  great  discredit  and 
dishonor  upon  his  name  and  cause.  But  he 
knew  not,  or  forgot,  that  it  was  for  this  end 
that  Jesus  came  into  the  world,  to  suffer  and 
die  for  sinners  ;  that  the  cup  could  not  pass 
from  him,  the  cross  could  not  be  avoided,  with- 
out prophecies  being  left  unfulfilled,  purposes 
of  God  left  unaccomplished,  the  sin  of  man  left 
unatoned  for,  the  salvation  of  mankind  left  un- 
secured. He  knew  not,  or  forgot,  that  he  was 
bringing  to  bear   upon  the    humanity  of  our 


328  The  Eebuke 

Lord  one  of  the  strongest  and  subtlest  of  all 
the  trials  to  which  it  was  to  be  exposed,  when 
in  prospect  of  that  untold  weight  of  sorrow 
which  was  to  be  laid  upon  it  in  the  garden  and 
upon  the  cross,  the  instincts  of  nature  taught  it 
to  shrink  therefrom,  to  desire  and  to  pray  for 
exemption. 

It  was  the  quick  and  tender  sense  our  Lord 
had  of  the  peculiarity  and  force  of  this  tempta- 
tion, rather  than  his  sense  of  singularity  and 
depth  of  Peter's  sinfulness,  which  prompted 
and  pointed  his  reproof.  At  the  same  time  he 
desired  to  let  Peter  know  that  the  way  ot 
looking  at  things,  in  which  he  had  been  indulg- 
ing, had  in  it  that  earthly,  carnal  element 
which  condemned  it  in  his  sight.  Nay,  more  ; 
he  would  seize  upon  the  opportunity  now  pre- 
sented, to  proclaim  once  more,  as  he  had  so 
often  done,  that  not  in  his  own  case  alone,  but 
in  the  case  of  all  his  true  and  faithful  followers, 
suffering,  self-denial,  self-sacrifice,  must  be  un- 
dergone. He  had  noticed  the  approach  of  a 
number  of  the  people  who  had  assembled  at 
the  sight  of  Jesus  and  his  apostles  passing  by 
their  dwellings.     These  he  called  to  him,*  as 

•  Mark  viii.  34. 


Of  St.  Peter.  329 

if  wishing  to  intimate  that  what  he  had  now  to 
say,  though  springing  out  of  what  had  occurred, 
and  addressed  in  the  first  instance  to  the 
twelve,  was  yet  meant  for  all — was  to  be  taken 
up  and  repeated,  and  spread  abroad,  as  ad- 
dressed to  the  wide  world  of  mankind.  If  any 
man,  he  said, — whosoever,  whatsoever  he  be — 
will  come  after  me,  be  a  follower  of  me,  not 
nominally,  but  really,  let  him  deny  himself,  and 
take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me.  No 
other  way  there  was  for  me,  your  Redeemer, 
your  forerunner,  than  by  taking  up  the  Cross 
appointed,  and  on  that  Cross  bearing  jonr 
transgressions  :  and  no  other  way  for  you  to 
follow  me,  than  by  each  of  you  voluntarily  and 
daily  taking  up  that  cross  which  consists  in  the 
repudiation  of  self-indulgence  as  the  principle 
and  spirit  of  your  hfe,  in  the  willing  acceptance 
of  self-denial  as  the  fixed  condition  of  the  new 
life's  growth  and  progress  in  your  souls,  in  the 
crucifying  of  every  sinful  affection  and  desire. 
**  For  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it ; 
but  whosoever  shall  lose  his  life  for  my  sake 
and  the  gospel's  shall  save  it."  Let  it  be  your 
main,  supreme,  engrossing  object,  to  save  your 
life  ;  to  guard  yourself  against  its  ills,  to  secure 
its   benefits,  its  weatlh,  its   honors,  its  enjoy- 


330  The  Rebuke 

ments— the  end  sliall  bo  that  the  very  tiling 
you  seek  to  save  you  certainly  shall  lose.  But 
if  from  a  supreme  love  to  Christ,  and  a  pre- 
dominating desire  to  please  him,  you  are  will- 
ing to  lose  life,  to  give  up  anything  which  he 
^aUs  you  to  give  up,  the  end  shall  be  that  the 
very  thing  that  you  were  ready  to  lose,  you 
shall  at  last  and  most  fully  gain.  For  take  it 
even  as  a  mere  matter  of  profit  and  loss — but 
weigh  aright  what  is  thrown  into  the  scale, 
when  you  are  balancing  earthly  and  eternal  in- 
terests— "What  is  a  man  profited  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world?"  No  man  ever  did  so;  but 
suppose  he  did,  imagine  that  one  way  or  other 
the  very  whole,  the  sum  total  that  this  world, 
— its  pursuits,  its  possessions,  its  enjoyments, 
can  do  to  make  one  happy,  were  grasped  by 
one  single  pair  of  arms  into  one  single  bosom, 
would  it  profit  him,  would  he  be  a  gainer  if, 
when  the  great  balance  was  struck,  it  should  be 
found — that  in  gaining  the  whole  world  he  had 
lost  his  own  soul  ?  that  it  had  been  lost  to  God 
and  to  all  its  higher  duties,  and  so  lost  to  hap- 
piness and  lost  forever  ?  For  if  a  man  once 
lose  his  soul,  where  shall  he  find  an  equivalent 
in  value  for  it?  where  shall  he  find  that  by 
which   it  can    be  redeemed  or  bought  again  ; 


Of  St.  Petek.  331 

what  shall  he  find  or  give  in  exchange  for  his 
soul  ?  Too  true,  alas  !  it  is,  that,  clear  though 
this  simplest  of  all  questions  of  profit  and  loss 
be,  many  will  not  work  it  out,  or  apply  it  to 
their  own  case,  content  to  grasp  what  is  near- 
est, the  present,  the  sensible,  the  earthly,  and 
to  overlook  the  more  remote,  the  unseen,  the 
spiritual,  the  eternal.  Too  true  that  what  hin- 
ders many  from  a  hearty  and  full  embrace  of 
Christ  and  all  the  blessings  of  his  salvation,  is  a 
desire  to  go  with  the  multitude  ;  a  shrinking, 
through  shame,  from  anything  that  would  sep- 
arate them  from  the  world.  Would  that  upon 
the  ears  of  such  the  solemn  words  of  our  Lord 
might  fall  with  power — '*  Whosoever  shall  be 
ashamed  of  me,  and  of  my  words,  of  him  shall 
the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed,  when  he  shall  come 
in  his  own  glory,  and  in  his  Father's,  and  of 
the  holy  angels.'"^  And  at  that  coming,  when 
the  earth  and  the  heavens  shal]  pass  awpy,  'mA 
we  shall  find  ourselves  standing  before  the 
great  white  thi'one,  and  in  the  presence  of  that 
vast  community  of  holy  beings,  what  will  it 
look  then  to  have  been  ashamed  of  Jesus  now  ? 
What  will  it  be  then  to  find  him  ashamed  of  us, 
disowning  us  ? 

Luke  ix.  2fi. 


332  The  Rebuke 

How  strangely  must  this  about  the  Son  of 
man  so  coming  with  power  and  great  glory, 
liave  sounded  in  the  ears  of  those  who  had  just 
been  listening  to  him  as  he  told  how  that  he 
must  suffer  many  things,  and  be  killed  and  be 
raised  again  the  third  day !  Beyond  that  time 
of  dishonor  and  suffering  and  death,  predicted 
as  so  near,  here  was  another  advent  of  the 
Son  of  man,  around  which  every  circumstance  of 
glory  and  honor  was  to  be  thrown.  But  when 
was  that  advent  to  be  reahzed  ?  Of  the  day 
and  the  hour  of  its  coming  no  man  was  to 
know  ;  but  this  much  about  it  Jesus  might 
even  now  reveal,  that  there  were  some  stand- 
ing then  before  him  who  should  not  taste  of 
death  till  they  saw  the  kingdom  of  God  set  up, 
till  they  saw  Jesus  coming  in  his  kingdom.  It 
could  not  be  of  his  personal  and  final  advent 
to  judgment  that  Jesus  meant  here  to  speak, 
for  that  was  not  to  occur  within  the  lifetime  of 
any  of  that  generation.  Those,  besides,  who 
were  to  be  alive  and  to  be  witnesses  of  that 
advent  were  never  to  taste  of  death.  Jesus 
could  only  mean  to  speak  of  such  a  visible  in- 
stitution of  his  kingdom  as  should  carry  with 
it  a  prelude  and  prophecy  of  the  great  consum- 
mation.    As  it  is   now   known   that    of   the 


Op  St.  Peter.  333 

twelre  apostles  John  and  Philip  alone  sur- 
vived the  great  catastrophe  of  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  when  the  Judaic  economy  which 
Christ's  kingdom  was  meant  to  supersede 
was  set  aside,  it  has  been  generally  believed 
that  it  was  to  that  particular  epoch  or  event 
that  Jesus  here  referred.  If  we  reflect, 
however,  that  it  was  to  the  general  audience 
by  whom  he  was  at  the  time  surrounded,  and 
not  exclusively  to  the  twelve,  that  Jesus  ad- 
dressed these  words,  we  may  be  the  more  dis- 
posed to  believe  that  it  was  to  the  general  f\ict 
of  the  open  establishment  of  his  kingdom  upon 
earth — that  kingdom  which  was  erected  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  and  which  came  forth  more 
cons[)icuously  into  notice  when  the  Jewish  cer- 
emonial expired,  and  it  took  its  place — that 
our  Saviour  alluded.  Some  of  those  to  whom 
Jesus  was  speaking  at  Caesarea-Philippi  were 
to  witness  the  setting  up  of  this  kingdom  with- 
in the  souls  of  men,  and  in  its  setting  were  to 
behold  the  visible  pledge  that  he  would  come 
again  the  second  time,  to  bring  the  present 
economy  of  things  to  its  close. 

Let  us  apply  the  saying  of  our  Lord  in  this 
way  to  ourselves.  He  has  a  kingdom,  not  dis- 
tmguished  now  by  any  tokens  of  external  splen- 


334:  The  Rebuke  of  St.  Petee. 

dor — his  kingdom  within  the  soul.  Before 
we  taste  of  death  we  may,  we  ought,  to  know 
that  kingdom,  to  enter  into  it,  be  enrolled  as 
its  subjects,  be  partakers  of  its  privileges  and 
blessings.  And  if  so  by  faith  we  see  and  own 
our  Lord,  yielding  ourselves  up  to  him  as  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God,  who  has 
come  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  to  save  us,  then 
when  we  close  our  eyes  in  death,  we  may  do  so 
in  the  humble  confidence  that  when  he  comes 
in  his  own  glory,  and  the  glory  of  the  Father, 
and  the  glory  of  the  holy  angels,  we  shall  not 
be  ashamed  before  him  at  his  coming,  and  he 
shall  not  be  ashamed  of  us,  but  shall  welcome 
us  into  that  kingdom  which  shall  never  be 
moved,  whose  glory  and  whose  blessedness 
shall  be  full,  unchangeable,  eternal. 


XVI. 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.* 


s 


IX  days  elasped  after  our  Lord's  first  fore- 
telling of  his  approaching  death.  These 
days  were  spent  in  the  region  of  Coesarea-Phi- 
hppi,  and  appear  to  have  passed  without  the 
occurrence  of  any  noticeable  event ;  days,  how- 
ever, they  undoubtedly  would  be  of  great  per- 
plexity and  sadness  to  the  disciples.  They  had 
so  far  modified  their  first  beliefs  and  expecta- 
tions, that  they  were  ready  to  cleave  to  their 
Master  in  the  midst  of  prevalent  misconception 
and  enmity.  But  this  new  and  strange  an- 
nouncement that  he  must  go  up  to  Jerusalem, 
not  only  to  be  rejected  of  the  elders  and  chief 
priests  and  scribes,  but  to  be  put  to  death  and 
raised  again  the  third  day,  has  disturbed  their 


*  Matt  xvii.  1-13  ;    Mark  ix.  2-13  ;  Luke  ix.  28-3a 


336  The  Tra^^sfigukation. 

faith,  and  filled  their  hearts  with  sorrowful  anx- 
ieties— a  disturbance  and  anxiety  chiefly,  we 
may  believe,  experienced  by  those  three  of  the 
twelve  already  admitted  by  Jesus  to  more  inti- 
mate fellowship  and  confidence.  The  six  days 
over,  bringing  no  relief,  Jesus  takes  these  three 
"  up  into  a  high  mountain  apart." 

Standing  upon  the  height  which  overlooks 
Ccesarea-Philippi,  I  looked  around  upon  the 
towering  ridges  which  Great  Hermon,  the 
Sheikh  of  the  Mountains,  as  the  Arabs  call  it, 
projects  into  the  plain.  Full  of  the  thought 
that  one  of  these  summits  on  which  I  gazed  had 
in  all  probability  witnessed  the  Transfiguration, 
I  had  fixed  upon  one  of  them  which,  from  its 
peculiar  position,  form,  and  elevation,  might 
aptly  be  spoken  of  as  a  "  high  mountain  apart," 
when  casting  my  eye  casually  down  along  its 
sides  as  they  sloped  into  the  valley,  the  remains 
of  three  ancient  villages  appeared  dotting  the 
base.  I  remembered  how  instantly  on  the  de- 
scent from  the  mountain  Jesus  had  found  him- 
self in  the  midst  of  his  disciples  and  of  the  mul- 
titude, and  was  pleased  at  observing  that  the 
mountain-top  I  had  fixed  upon  met  all  the  re- 
quirements of  the  Gospel  narrative.  If  that 
were,  mdeed,   the  mountain-top   up  to  which 


The  Teansfigubation.  337 

Jesus  went,  he  never  stood  so  high  above  the 
level  of  the  famiUar  lake,  nor  did  his  eye  ever 
sweep  so  broadly  the  hills  of  Galilee.  Which- 
ever the  mountain  was,  the  shades  of  evening 
were  falling  as  Jesus  climbed  its  sides.  He  \^' 
loved,  we  know,  the  stillness  of  the  night,  the 
sohtude  of  the  mountain.  He  sought  them  for 
the  purposes  of  devotion — in  the  loneliness,  the 
calmness,  the  elevation,  finding  something  in 
harmony  with  prayer.  Generally,  however, 
on  such  occasions  he  was  alone.  He  either 
sent  his  disciples  away,  or  managed  to  separate 
himself  from  their  society.  Now,  however,  as 
anticipating  what  was  about  to  happen,  he  takes 
with  him  Peter  and  James  and  John,  the  des- 
tined witnesses  of  his  humiliation  and  agony  in 
the  garden.  The  sun  sinks  in  the  wxst  beneath 
the  waters  of  the  Great  Sea  as  the  top  of  the 
mountain-  is  reached.  Night  begins  to  draw 
its  mantle  round  them,  wrapping  in  obscurity 
the  world  below.  Jesus  begins  to  pray.  The 
three  who  rest  a  little  space  avvay  from  him 
would  join  in  his  devotions,  but  wearied  with 
the  ascent,  less  capable  of  resisting  the  coming- 
on  of  night  and  the  pressure  of  fatigue,  their 
eyes  grow  heavy  till  they  close  in  sleep — the 
last  sight  they  rest  on,  that  sombre  figure  of 


i38  The  Teansfigukation. 

their  Master  ;  the  last  sound  on  their  listening 
ear,  the  gentle  murmur  of  his  ascending 
prayers.  From  this  sleep  they  waken,  not  at 
the  gentle  touch  of  the  morning  light,  not  to 
look  down  upon  the  plain  below,  seen  under 
the  beams  of  the  rising  day :  with  stroke  of 
awakening  power,  a  bright,  effulgent  radiance 
has  fallen  upon  their  eyelids,  and  as  they  lift 
them  up,  while  all  is  dark  below,  the  mountain- 
top  is  crowned  with  light,  and  there  before 
them  now  there  are  three  forms  :  their  Master 
— "the  fashion  of  his  countenance  altered" — 
his  face  shining  as  the  sun — lit  up,  not  alone, 
as  the  face  of  Moses  once  was,  by  the  lingerhig 
reflection  of  the  outward  glory  upon  which  it 
had  gazed,  but  illumined  from  within,  as  if  the 
hidden  glory  were  bursting  through  the  fleshy 
veil  and  kindling  it  into  radiance  as  it  passed' 
— his  raiment  shining,  bright  as 'the  glistening 
snow  that  lay  far  above  them  upon  the  highest 
top  of  Hermon — exceeding  white,  so  as  no  ful- 
ler on  earth  could  whiten  them  ;  and  beside 
him,  appearing,  too,  in  glory,  yet  in  glory  not 
like  his — dimmer  and  less  radiant — their  form?, 
their  attitudes,  their  words  all  showing  that 
they  came  to  wait  on  him  and  do  him  homage 
— Moses  the  Lawgiver,  and  Elijah  the  Reformer 


The  Tbansfigueation.  339 

or  Restorer  of  the  Jewish  theocracy.  Whence 
came  they  ?  In  what  form  did  they  now  ap- 
pear? How  came  Peter  and  James  and  John 
at  once  to  recognize  them  ?  They  came  from 
the  world  of  the  dead,  the  region  that  departed 
spirits  occupy.  EHjah  did  not  need  to  borrow 
for  this  occasion  his  old  human  form.  He  had 
carried  that  with  him  in  the  chariot  of  fire — the 
corruptible  then  changed  into  the  incorruptible 
— the  mortal  having  then  put  on  immortality  ; 
and  now  in  that  transfigured  body  he  stands 
beside  the  transfigured  form  of  Jesus.  Moses 
had  died,  indeed,  and  was  once  buried  ;  but  no 
man  knew  where  nor  how,  nor  can  any  man 
now  tell  us  in  what  bodily  or  material  shape  it 
was  that  he  now  appeared,  nor  what  there  was 
if  anything  about  the  external  appearance 
either  of  him  or  of  Elijah  which  helped  the  apos- 
tles to  the  recognition.  In  some  way  unknown 
the  recognition  came.  It  was  given  them  to 
know  who  these  two  shining  strangers  were. 
It  was  given  them  to  listen  to  and  so  far  to  un- 
derstand the  converse  they  were  holding  with 
Jesus  as  to  know  that  they  were  speaking  to 
him  about  the  decease  he  was  to  accomplish  at 
Jerusalem.  But  it  was  not  given  to  them 
either  immediately  or  any  time  thereafter  to  re- 


340  TnE  lliAJSSi'iG  ciiAiiuN. 

port,  perhaps  even  to  remember,  the  words 
they  heard.  We  must  remain  content  with 
kuowing  nothing  more  about  that  conversation 
— which,  whether  we  think  of  the  occasion,  or 
the  speakers,  or  the  subject-matter,  appears  to 
us  as  tlie  subhmest  ever  held  on  earth — than 
generally  what  its  topic  was. 

But  of  what  great  moment  even  that  infor- 
mation is  we  shall  presently  have  to  speak. 
Their  mysterious  discourse  with  Jesus  over, 
Moses  and  Elias  make  a  movement  to  retire. 
Peter  will  not  let  them  go — will  detain  them  if 
he  can.  He  might  not  have  broken  in  upon 
his  Master  while  engaged  in  converse  with 
them,  but  now  that  they  seem  about  to  with- 
draw, in  the  fullness  of  his  ecstatic  delight,  with 
a  strong  wish  to  detain  the  strangers,  a  dim 
sense  that  they  were  in  an  exposed  and  shelter- 
less place,  and  a  very  vain  imagination  that  the 
affording  of  some  better  protection  might  per- 
haps induce  them  to  stay,  and  that  if  they  did 
they  might  all  take  up  their  permanent  dwell- 
ing here  together,  he  cannot  but  exclaim, 
"Master,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here:  and  let 
,  us  make  three  tabernacles  (three  arbors  or  for- 
^  est  tents  of  the  boughs  of  the  neighboring 
trees ;)  one  for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and 


The  Tkansfigukation.  341 

one  for   Elias."     Not  knowing   what  he  said, 
the  words  are  just  passing  from  his  babbhng 
hps,  when  the  eye  that  follows  the  retreating 
figures   is  filled  with   another   and  a  brighter 
light.     A  cloud  comes  down  upon  the  moun- 
tain-top— a  cloud  of  brightness — a  cloud  which, 
unfolding  its  hidden  treasures,  pours  a  radiance 
down  upon  the    scene   that  throws   even    the 
form  of  the  Redeemer  into  shadow,  and  in  the 
darkness  of  whose  excessive  light  the  forms  of 
Moses   and   Elias   sink    away   and   disappear. 
This  cloud  is  no  other  than  the  Shekinah,  the 
symbol  of  Jehovah's  gracious  presence.     From 
the  midst  of  its  excellent  glory,  there  comes 
the  voice,  "This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I 
am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  him,"— not  Moses, 
nor   Ehas,  nor   any   other   lawgiver,  nor    any 
other   prophet, — but   hear    ye    him.     As   the 
apostles  hear  that  voice  they  are  sore  afraid  ; 
the  strength  goes  out  of  them,  and  they  fall 
with  their  faces  to  the  ground.     Jesus  comes, 
touches  them.     The  touch  restores  their  strengh. 
He    says,   "Arise,  and  be  not  afraid."     They 
spring    up  ;    they   look    around.     The    voices 
have    ceased,    the    forms   have    vanished,    the 
glory  is  gone  ;  they  are  alone  with  Jesus  as  at 
the  first. 


312  The  Transfiguration. 

k^iicli  as  we  have  now  recited  them  were  the 
incidents  of  the  Transfiguration.     Let  us  con- 
sider now  its  scope  and  design.     In  the  shaded 
history  of  the  man  of  sorrows,  this  one  passage 
>     stands  out  so  unique — a  single  outburst  of  hght 
r    and  glory  on  tlie  long  track  of  darkness — that 
I  we  look  at  it  with  the  most  intense  curiosity  ; 
and  as  we  look  the  questions  start  to  our  lips, 
,  Why  was  it  that  for  that  one  brief  season  the 
'  brow  that  was  to  be  crowned  with  thorns  was 
crowned  with  glor}^,  the  countenance  that  was 
to  be  marred  and  spit  upon  shone  as  the  sun, 
the  raiment  that  was  to  be  stripped  off  and  di- 
vided among  foreign  soldiers  became  so  bright 
and  glistering  ?     Why  was  it  that  he  who  ere 
long  was  to  be  seen  hanging  up  to  die  between 
the  two  malefactors,  was  now  and  thus  to  be 
seen,  with  Moses  and  Elias  standing  by  his  side 
paying  to  him  the  most  profound  obeisance  ? 
Why  did  that  clouded  glory  come  down  and 
glide  across  the  mountain-top,  and  that  voice 
of  the  Infinite  Majesty  speak  forth  its    awful 
]/    and  authoritative,  yet  instructive  and  encourag- 
ing words  ?     In  answer  to  these  questions,  we 
must  say  that  we  know  too  little  of  the  world 
of  spirits  to  take  it  upon  us  to  conjecture  or  to 
affirm   what   it   was,  so    far   as   they   person- 


The  TiuNSFiGURATioN.  343 

ally  were  concerned,  or  the  community  of 
which  they  formed  a  part,  which  brouglit  Moses 
and  EHas  from  their  places  of  abode  in  the  in- 
visible world  to  stand  and  talk  for  this  short 
season  with  Jesus  on  the  mount.  Doubtless 
the  benefit,  as  the  honor,  to  them  was  singular 
and  great,  involving  a  closer  approach  to,  a 
nearer  fellowship  with,  Jesus  in  his  glorified 
estate,  than  was  ever  made  or  enjoyed  by  any 
other  of  our  race  on  earth,  than  may  be  made 
or  enjoyed  even  by  the  redeemed  in  heaven. 
But  we  venture  not  to  specify  or  define  what 
the  advantage  was  which  was  thus  conferred. 
We  know  too  little  also  of  the  inner  history 
and  of  the  human  mind  of  the  man  Christ  Jesus, 
to  say  how  seasonable,  how  serviceable  this 
brief  translation  into  the  society  of  the  upper 
sanctuary  may  have  been — what  treasures  of  ^ 
strength  and  comfort  fitting  him  for  tlie  ap- 
proaching hour  and  power  of  darkness,  the 
solemn  announcement  of  his  sonship  by  the 
Father,  the  declaration  of  satisfaction  with  all 
^his^arthly  work,  may  have  conveyed  into  his 
soul.  Doubtless  here,  too,  there  were  purposes 
of  mercy  and  grace  towards  the  redeemer  sub- 
served, which  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  apprehend, 
more  difficult  for  us  fuUy  to  fathom.     But  there 


V 


344  The  Transfigukation. 

is  another  region  lying  far  more  open  to  our 
inspection  than  either  of  those  now  indicated. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  perceive  how  the  whole 
scene  of  the  transfiguration  was  ordered  so  as 
to  fortify  and  confirm  the  apostles'  faith.  That 
it  had  this  as  one  of  its  immediate  and  more 
prominent  objects  is  evident,  from  the  simple 
fact  that  Peter,  James,  and  John  were  taken 
up  to  the  mount  to  witness  it.  Not  for  Christ's 
own  sake  alone,  nor  for  the  sake  of  Moses  and 
Elias  alone,  but  for  their  sake  also,  was  this 
glimpse  of  the  glorified  condition  of  our  Lord 
afforded  ;  and  when  we  set  ourselves  deliber- 
ately to  consider  what  the  obstructions  were 
which  then  lay  in  the  way  of  a  true  ftiith  on 
their  part  in  Christ,  we  can  discern  how  singu- 
larly fitted,  in  its  time,  its  mode,  and  all  at- 
tendant circumstances,  it  was  to  remove  these 
obstructions,  and  establish  them  in  that  faith. 

1.  It  helped  them  to  rise  to  a  true  concep- 
tion of  the  dignity  of  the  Saviour's  person. 
The  humbleness  of  Christ's  birth,  his  social  es- 
tate, the  whole  outward  manner  and  circum- 
stances of  his  life  created  then  a  prejudice 
against  him  and  his  claims  to  the  Messiahship, 
the  force  of  which  it  is  now  difficult  to  com- 
pute :  "  Can  there  any  good  thing  come  out  of 


The  Teansfigueation.  345 

Nazareth  ?"  was  the  question  not  of  a  captious 
scribe  or  a  hostile  Pharisee,  but  of  an  Israehte 
mdeed,  in  whom  there  was  no  guile.  "Is  not 
this  the  carpenter's  son  ?"  was  the  language  of 
those  who  had  been  intimate  with  him  from 
his  birth  when  they  heard  him  in  their  syna- 
gogue apply  the  memorable  passage  in  the 
prophecies  of  Isaiah  to  himself — "Is  not  this 
the  carpenter's  son  ?  is  not  his  mother  called 
Mary,  and  his  brothers  James  and  Joses,  and 
Simon  and  Judas  ;  and  his  sisters,  are  they 
not  all  with  us  ?  And  they  were  offended  in 
him."  In  the  case  of  his  own  disciples,  his 
character,  his  teaching,  his  miracles,  his  life 
fully  satisfied  them  that  he  was  that  Prophet 
who  was  to  be  sent.  Yet  the  very  familiarity 
of  their  daily  intercourse  with  him  as  a  man  -f- 
stood  in  the  way  of  their  rising  to  the  loftier 
conception  of  his  divinity.  Besides,  had  no 
such  incident  as  that  of  the  Transfiguration  oc- 
curred in  the  Saviour's  history,  we  can  well 
conceive  how  at  this  very  stage  they  might 
have  been  thrown  into  a  condition  of  mind  and 
feeling  exactly  the  reverse  of  that  of  their 
countrymen  at  large.  Blinded  by  pride  and 
prejudice,  the  Jews  generally  would  not  look 
at  those  Scriptures  which  spoke  of  a  suffering, 


34:6  The  Transfiguration. 

dying  Messiah,  but  fixing  their  eyes  alv:)ne 
upon  those  glowing  descriptions  given  by  their 
prophets  of  the  majesty  of  his  person  and  the 
glory  of  his  reign,  they  cast  aside  at  once  and 
indignantly  the  pretensions  of  the  son  of  the 
carpenter.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  idea  of 
his  suflering  unto  death  was  presented  to  the 
minds  of  his  own  disciples.  Afterwards  they 
were  more  fully  instructed  out  of  the  writhigs 
of  Moses  and  the  prophets  how  it  behoved 
Christ  to  suffer  all  these  things,  and  then  to 
enter  into  his  glory.  But  the  glory  of  which 
so  much  had  been  foretold — that  bright  side 
of  the  prophetic  picture — what  was  it,  and 
when  and  how  was  it  to  be  revealed  ?  Here 
again,  just  when  their  faith  was  widened  in 
one  direction,  in  another  it  might  have  begun 
to  falter.  To  meet  all  the  trials  of  their  posi- 
tion, in  mercy  to  all  their  weaknesses,  one  sight 
was  given  of  the  Lord's  transfigured  form  ; 
one  visible  manifestation  of  the  place  he  held 
in  the  invisible  kingdom  ;  one  glimpse  of  the 
heavenly  glory,  with  Jesus  standing  in  the 
midst.  Sense  stretched  out  its  vigorous  hand 
to  lay  hold  of  blind  and  staggering  Faith. 
And  long  afterwards — thirty  years  and  more 
from  the  time  that  the  great  manifestation  was 


The  Tkansfigukation.  347 

made — in  Peter's  person,  Faith,  when  she  had 
got  over  all  her  difficulties  and  stood  serene, 
secure,  triumphant,  looked  back  and  owned 
the  debt,  and  published  abroad  her  obligation, 
saymg,  "We  have  not  followed  cunningly  de- 
vised fables,  when  we  made  known  unto  3-ou 
the  power  and  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
but  were  eye-witnesses  of  his  majesty.  For 
he  received  from  God  the  Father  honor  and 
glory,  when  there  came  such  a  voice  to  him 
from  the  excellent  glorj^.  This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.  And  this 
voice  we  heard  when  we  were  with  him  in  the 
holy  mount." 

2.  The  position  which  Christ  assumed  to- 
wards the  Jewish  priesthood  and  the  Mosaic 
ritual  was  not  a  little  perplexing — his  habitual 
neglect  of  some,  his  open  and  severe  condem- 
nation of  other  religious  observances  sanction- 
ed by  the  highest  ecclesiastical  authorities,  re- 
garded generally  as  of  divine  origin  and  au- 
thority, and  rigorously  observed  by  all  who 
made  any  pretensions  to  piety.  He  wore  no 
phylacteries — he  made  no  long  prayers — neith- 
er he  nor  his  disciples  fasted — he  and  they  ate 
with  unwashed  hands — he  sat  down  with  pub- 
hcans  and  sinners — in  many  ways,  according 


348    '•  The  Teansfigueation. 

to  the  current  ideas,  he  and  his  disciples  broke 
the  Sabbath — he  separated  himself  from  the 
priesthood — he  walked  not  in  their  ways — he 
discountenanced  many  of  their  practices — he 
taught  and  he  practised  a  religion  that  made 
but  little  of  holy  rites  and  outward  orderly  ob- 
servances. The  religion  of  the  heart,  the  home, 
the  secret  chamber,  the  broad  highway,  the 
solitary  mountain-side — a  religion  that  in  its 
heavenward  aspects  opened  a  way  direct  for 
any  sinner  of  our  race  to  God  as  his  heavenly 
Father — that  in  its  earthward  aspects  found 
its  sphere  and  occupation  in  the  faithful  and 
kindly  discharge  to  all  around  of  the  thousand 
nameless  duties  of  human  brotherhood  : — such 
religion  the  Scribes,  the  Pharisees,  the  hier- 
archy, the  whole  body  of  the  Jewish  priest- 
hood, disliked  ;  they  looked  askance  upon  it 
and  upon  its  author  ;  took  up  the  tale  against 
Jesus — many  of  them  no  doubt  believing  it — ■ 
and  circulated  it — that  this  man  was  an  enemy 
of  Moses,  was  ill-affected  to  the  Law  and  to 
the  Prophets,  was  an  innovator,  a  revolution- 
ist. To  see  and  hear  their  Master  thus  ar- 
raigned, and  with  mur-h  apparent  reason  too, 
as  one  throwing  himself  into  a  hostile  attitude 
towards  all  the  venerated  popular  superstitious, 


The  Teansfiguration.  349 

must  have  been  not  a  little  trying  to  our 
Lord's  apostles.  But  if  there  entered  into 
their  minds  a  doubt  'as  to  the  actual  hmer 
spiritual  harmon}^  between  their  Master's  teach- 
ing, and  that  of  Moses  and  the  prophets,  the 
vision  of  the  mount^-the  sight  of  Moses  and 
Elias,  the  founder  and  the  restorer,  the  two 
chief  representatives  of  the  old  covenant,  ap- 
pearhig  in  glory,  entering  into  such  fellowship 
with  Jesus,  owning  him  as  their  Lord,  must 
have  cleared  it  away — satisfying  them  by  an 
ocular  demonstration  that  their  Master  came 
not  to  destroy  the  law  and  the  prophets — not 
to  destroy,  but  to  fulfill. 

3.  The  manner  of  Christ's  death  was,  of  it- 
self, a  huge  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
faith — one  over  which,  notwithstanding  all  that 
had  been  dene  beforehand  to  prepare  them, 
the  apostles  at  first  stumbled  and  fell.  And 
yet  one  might  have  thought  that  the  conversa- 
tion which  Peter,  James,  and  John  overheard 
upon  the  mount,  might  have  satisfied  them 
that  a  mysterious  interest  hung  around  that 
death — obscure  to  the  dull  eyes  of  ordinary 
mortals,  but  very  visible  to  the  eyes  of  the 
glorified.  It  formed  the  one  and  only  topic 
of  that  sublimest  interview  that  ever  took  place 


350  The  Transfiguration. 

on  earth.  And  doubtless,  when  the  apostles 
recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  the  Crucifix- 
ion, and,  under  Christ's 'and  the  Spirit's  teach- 
ing, the  meaning  and  object  of  the  great  sacri- 
fice for  human  guilt  effected  by  that  death  re- 
vealed itself,  and  they  began  to  remember  all 
that  the  Lord  had  told  them  of  it,  and  the  seal 
of  silence  that  had  been  put  upon  the  lips  of 
Peter,  James,  and  John  was  broken — when 
they  could  not  only  tell  that  it  was  about  this 
decease,  and  about  it  alone,  that  Moses  and 
Elias  had  spoken  to  their  Lord,  but  knew  now 
wli}^  it  was  that  it  formed  the  only  selected 
topic  of  discourse — that  recalled  conversation 
of  the  holy  mount  would  contribute  to  fix 
their  eyes  in  adoring  gratitude  upon  the  Cross, 
and  to  open  their  lips,  as  they  determined  to 
know  nothing  among  their  fellow-men  but 
Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 

The  peculiar  way  in  which  Jesus  gpake  of 
his  relationship  to  God  was  another  great  diffi- 
culty in  the  way  of  faith.  It  seemed  so  strange, 
so  presumptuous,  so  blasphemous,  for  a  man — 
with  nothing  to  mark  him  off  as  different  from 
other  men — to  speak  of  God  as  his  Father,  not 
in  any  figurative  or  metaphorical  sense,  not  as 
any  one,  every  one  of  his  creatures  might  do, 


The  Teansfiguration.  351 

but  in  such  a  sense  as  obviously  to  imply  one- 
ness of  nature,  of  attributes,  of  authority,  of 
possession.  How,  against  all  the  counter  forces 
that  came  hito  play  against  it,  was  a  faith  in 
his  true  sonship  to  the  Father  to  be  created 
and  sustained  ?  They  had  his  word,  his  char- 
acter, his  works  to  build  upon.  But  knowing 
the  frailty  of  that  spirit  within  which  the  faith 
had  to  be  built  up,  God  was  pleased  to  add 
another  evidence,  even  that  of  his  personal 
and  audible  testimony.  And  so  from  that 
cloudy  glory  which  hung  for  a  few  moments 
above  the  mountain-top,  his  own  living  voice 
was  heard  authenticating  all  that  Jesus  had 
said,  or  was  to  say,  of  the  peculiar  relationship 
to  him  in  which  he  stood,  "  This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.  Hear  ye 
him," 

Once  before,  at  the  Baptism,  had  the  voice 
of  the  Father  been  heard  uttering  the  same 
testimony — confirming  the  same  great  fact  or 
truth.  What  more  could  the  Father  do  than 
break  the  silence  so  long  preserved,  bow  the 
heavens  and  come  down,  take  into  his  hps  one 
of  our  human  tongues,  and  in  words  that  men 
could  understand,  thus  twice   and  so   solemn- 


352  The  Teansfigueation. 

ly  declare,  that  this  Jesus  of  Nazareth — this 
unique  sojourner  upon  our  earth  —  was  no 
other  than  his  only  begotten,  his  well-beloved 
Son,  to  whom,  above  all  others,  we  were  to  open 
our  ears,  to  hear  and  to  believe,  to  obey  and 
J,  to  be  blessed  ?  In  shape  of  mere  sensible 
demonstration,  could  faith  ask  a  higher,  better 
proof? 

What  then  may  we  not  say  as  we  contem- 
plate the  single  but  strong  help  to  faith  given 
in  this  one  brilliant  passage  of  our  Redeemer's 
life  ?  What  hath  God  not  done  to  win  the 
Jir  faith  of  the  human  family  in  Jesus  Christ  as 
his  Son  our  Saviour?  If  miracles  of  wonder 
could  have  done  it ;  if  lights  seen  on  earth  that 
were  kindled  before  the  sun,  and  forms  seen 
on  earth  that  had  passed  into  the  heavens,  and 
the  very  voice  heard  on  earth  that  spake  and 
it  was  done,  that  commanded  and  all  things 
stood  fast,  could  have  done  it — it  had  been 
done  long  ago.  But,  alas !  for  hearts  so  slow 
and  hard  as  ours,  we  need  Christ  to  be  reveal- 
ed to  us  by  the  Spirit,  as  well  as  revealed  out- 
wardly by  the  Father,  ere  to  that  great  sajing 
of  his  upon  the  mount  we  make  the  right  re- 
sponse, looking  upon  Jesus  and  saying,  "  Truly 


The  TfiANsriGUEATioN.  353 

this  is  the  Son  of  God — my  Lord,  my  God,  my 
one  and  only  Saviour — with  whom  I,  too,  am 
well  pleased,  and  through  whom  I  humbly 
trust  that  the  Father  will  be  well  pleased  with 
me !" 


NOTE. 


EXTRACT  FKOM   A  JOURNAL  KEPT    BY  THJ5    AUTHOR  DURINa   A 
VISIT   TO    THE   HOLY   LAND   TS   THE   SPRING   OF   THE   YEAR 

1863. 

Thursday,  2Sd  April. — Our  first  sight  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee  was  from  the  top  of  Tabor.  The  next  was  dur- 
ing our  descent  this  evening  to  Tiberias  from  the  elevat- 
ed ground  around  Kurin-Hattin.  The  cUmate  changed 
sensibly  as  we  descended,  and  the  vegetation  altered. 
"We  had  been  under  considerable  alarm  as  to  the  suffo- 
cating heat  we  were  to  meet  with  in  Tiberias,  and  the 
attacks  of  vermin  to  which  we  were  to  be  exposed.  In- 
stead of  entering  the  town,  or  encountering  the  dreaded 
enemy  in  his  stronghold,  where  he  musters,  we  are  told, 
in  great  force,  we  pitched  our  tents  in  an  airy  situation 
on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  where  we  suffered  no  annoy- 
ance of  any  kind.  Beautiful  it  was,  as  the  sun  went 
down  and  the  stars  shone  out,  to  look  upon  the  waters, 
and  to  remember  that  they  were  the  waters  of  the  Lake 
of  Galilee. 

Friday,  24</i. — ^A  showery  night,  trying  our  tents, 
which  stood  out  well — but  httle  rain  having  got  en- 


356  Note. 

trance.  The  day  cleared  up  after  breakfast,  and  at 
eleven  o'clock  we  went  on  board  the  boat  which  we  had 
secured  the  night  before  to  be  at  our  disposal  during 
our  stay  here.  Bowed  along  the  southwestern  shores 
of  the  lake.  The  hiUs  that  rise  here  from  the  shore  are 
lofty,  some  of  them  1200  or  1300  feet  high.  Landed 
for  a  while  on  a  beautiful  pebbly  beach  in  a  little  bay 
on  the  shores  of  which  are  scattered  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  Tarichcea.  Within  the  small  enclosure  of  the 
bay — less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across — indenting 
not  more  than  one  hundred  yards  the  general  shore 
line,  Josephus  tells  us  of  more  than  two  hundred  ves- 
sels being  gathered  for  the  only  naval  engagement  be- 
tween the  Jews  and  Romans.  What  an  idea  does  this 
present  of  the  former  populousness  of  these  now  silent 
and  almost  boatless  waters!  Bathed  in  the  lake,  and 
lay  on  the  shore  gathering  shells.  Took  boat  again, 
and  rowed  to  the  southern  end  of  the  lake,  where  the 
Jordan  leaves  it,  and,  true  to  its  tortuous  character, 
bends  right  and  left  as  it  issues  from  the  lake.  Rowed 
across  here,  and  landed  on  the  eastern  shore.  We  had 
intended  making  a  minute  survey  of  the  southeastern 
banks,  the  general  belief  having  so  long  been  that  some- 
where upon  them  was  the  scene  of  our  Lord's  cure  of 
the  demoniac  of  Gadara.  A  careful  inspection  of  what 
lay  quite  open  to  view  at  once  convinced  us  that  it  could 
not  have  been  at  any  place  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
lake  south  of  Wady  Fik,  which  lies  nearly  opposite 
Tiberias,  that  the  miracle  was  wrought,  for  there  is  no 
steep  place  whatever  at  or  near  the  lake-side  down 
which  the  swine  could  have  run  violently.  For  a  long 
way  inland  the  country  is  level — never  rising  to  any 
eight  as  would  answer  to  the  description  in  the 


Note.  357 

Gospel  narrative.  There  is  a  Gadara,  indeed,  in  this 
neighborhood,  but  it  is  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
lake.  It  would  take  three  hours  to  reach  it,  and  the 
gorge  of  the  river  Jermak  intervenes.  It  cannot  have 
been  the  Gadara  near  to  which  the  tombs  were,  out  of 
which  the  inhabitants  came  immediately  on  hearing 
what  had  happened  on  the  lake  side.  A  single  look  at 
Kiu'bit-es-Sumrah  (Hippos)  must  satisfy  every  observer 
that  it  could  not  possibly  have  been  there,  nor  anywhere 
in  its  immediate  neighborhood,  that  the  incidents  oc- 
curred connected  with  the  healing  of  the  demoniac. 
We  rowed  back  in  the  evening  to  our  tents,  thoroughly 
satisfied  that  in  this  instance  the  existence  of  a  place 
called  Gadara  l^'ing  south  of  the  lake  had  exercised  a 
misleading  influence.  It  remained  for  us  to  examine 
the  eastern  side  of  the  lake,  above  the  point  at  which 
we   now  left  it.     This   we   resolved   to    do   the    next 

day 

Saturday,  2Gth. — Eowed  across  to  Y/ady  Fik,  the  first 
place  along  the  eastei'n  shore  coming  up  from  the  south 
at  which  the  miracle  could  have  been  performed.  On 
landing,  we  asked  our  boatmen  whether  there  were  any 
tombs  in  the  wady.  Their  answer  was  to  point  us  to  a 
very  old  burjing-ground,  scarcely  a  hundi-ed  yards  from 
the  place  where  we  landed,  which  told  its  OAvn  story  by 
the  stones  scattered  over  it.  We  scarcely  needed  to  ask 
whether  there  were  any  remains  of  toAvns  or  villages 
near ;  for,  looking  to  our  right,  on  the  slope  of  a  hill 
about  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  the  ruins  of  a  village  were 
to  be  seen, — a  very  old  village  our  guide  told  us  it  was, 
■ — its  name,  as  he  pronounced  it,  Kurban,  or  Dharban, 
or  Goorban,  we  could  not  exactly  say  which.  Immedi- 
ately fronting  us  was  a  loftly  conical  height,  vdth  the 


358  Note. 

BteepesL  line  of  descent  we  had  yet  seen.  This  height 
was  connected  by  a  narrow  shoulder  of  land  with  the 
line  of  hills  behind,  which  here  decline  so  rapidly  to  the 
shore,  that  either  along  their  sides,  or  down  the  still 
steeper  side  of  the  semi-detached  and  conical  eminence 
in  the  mouth  of  the  wady,  the  swine  may  have  run 
There  is  indeed  a  level  space,  of  no  great  extent  how- 
ever, between  the  shore  and  the  bottom  of  the  hills  and 
of  this  eminence,  but  it  might  easily  have  been  that 
under  the  impulse  of  the  demoniac  possession,  and 
ui'ged  by  the  impetus  given  in  so  long  and  so  rapid  a 
descent,  the  swine  might  have  been  hurried  across  the 
space  into  the  water.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  steep  place 
along  the  whole  eastern  shore  which  runs  sheer  down 
into  the  water.  Here,  then,  in  Wady  Fik,  we  had 
(enough  to  satisfy  all  the  requirements  of  the  narrative  : 
i/)mbs  so  placed  that  immediately  on  Christ's  landing  a 
loan  might  have  come  out  of  them  ;  a  mountain  near, 
on  which  two  thousand  swine  might  have  been  feeding; 
a  height  down  which  they  might  have  run  so  violently 
as  to  be  driven  into  the  sea;  and  a  village  at  hand  to 
which  the  tidings  might  easily  be  carried.  It  remained 
for  us,  however,  to  visit  Wady  Semakh — the  site  fixed 
on  by  Dr.  Thomson  as  the  scene  of  the  event.  Here, 
too,  more  than  one  of  the  conditions  required  by  the 
narrative  were  fully  met:  on  the  hill-side,  to  the  right 
of  the  valley,  were  caves  used  formerly  as  tombs;  be- 
tween us  and  them,  as  we  stood  upon  the  shore,  were 
the  remains  of  an  old  village,  while  away  at  a  consider- 
able distance  on  our  right  was  a  slope  of  a  mountain 
sid«  that  might  have  served  for  the  descent.  The 
tcfmbs,  however,  were  too  far  off.  Their  position  rela- 
tive to  the  village  scarcely  corresponded  with  the  nar- 


Note.  359 

ratlve,  from  which  one  would  naturally  infer  that  the 
village  lay  behind, — the  word  needing  to  be  cari'ied  to 
it.  On  the  whole,  after  the  fairest  and  fullest  compari- 
son we  could  institute,  our  decision  was  that  it  was  in 
Wady  Fik,  and  not  in  Wady  Semakh,  that  the  incidents 
of  the  strange  healing  occurred.* 

The  closer  survey,  however,  that  we  were  now  able  to 
make  of  "Wady  Semakh,  strengthened  the  impression 
that  eye  and  glass  had  conveyed  to  us — as  fi'om  the 
other  side  we  had  studied  the  eastern  shores  of  the 
lake — that  it  was  in  its  neighborhood  that  the  feeding 
of  the  five  thousand  took  place.  Let  any  one  run  hia 
eye  from  the  entrance  of  the  Jordan  into  the  lake,  down 
the  eastern  shore,  and  he  will  notice  that  all  along  the 
tand  rises  with  a  gentle  and  gradual  slope;  never  tUl 
miles  behind  rising  into  anything  that  could  be  called  a 
mountain;  never  showing  any  single  height  with  a 
marked  distinction  from  or  elevation  above  the  others, 
eo  separate  and  so  secluded  that  it  could  with  propriety 
be  said  that  Jesus  went  up  to  that  mountain  apart  to 
pray.  "JVherever  Capernaum  was,  to  pass  over  from  it 
to  these  slopes  on  the  northeastern  shore  traditionally 
regarded  as  the  scene  of  the  miracle,  could  scarcely  be 
said  to  be  a  crossing  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake. 
But  Wady  Semakh  presents  the  veiy  kind  of  place  re- 
quired by  the  record  of  the  events.  Looking  up  into  it, 
with  high  mountains  on  either  side,  with  lesser  valleys 
dividing  them  from  one  another,  presenting  a  choice  to 
any  one  who  sought  an  elevated  privacy  on  a  mountain 
top  for  prayer, — and  turning  our  eye  uj)on  the  many 
plateaux  or  nearly  level  places,  carpeted  at  this  season 

♦  See  Sinai  and  FaUitine,  p.  380. 


3G0  Note. 

of  tlio  year  with  grass,  ray  companion.  Dr.  Keith  John- 
ston, and  I  were  both  persuaded  that  our  eyes  were 
resting  on  the  neighborliood  where  the  great  and  gra- 
cious display  of  the  Divine  power  was  made  in  the  feed- 
ing of  the  multitude. 


DATE  DUE 

'^^'.'i'?  F- :  .V«*,n 

m 

CAYLORD 

